


Anything

by tiigi



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Human Pennywise, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Possessive Behaviour, Stockholm Syndrome, Sugar Daddy, kind of, robert is lowkey a good guy but also not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-01-04 18:16:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiigi/pseuds/tiigi
Summary: “What w-would I have to do? If I agreed? What would I...”Robert’s thumb brushes over Bill’s knuckles in slow, comforting circles and Bill is so tired, he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and just sink into the nice, safe feeling.“Nothing you wouldn’t enjoy.” Robert murmurs in a low voice, and Bill’s done with fighting. He’ll let Robert have sex with him if it means Georgie is safe and well fed and has a place to sleep.“Okay,” He swallows, nodding sharply. “Okay.”***When their father’s abuse reaches a new level, Bill takes Georgie and leaves. He runs into Robert on the way, and they come to an agreement that works for the both of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of cracky but I was feeling inspired so I hope you enjoy :D

Georgie comes to find him after he’s finished exploring. He was too tired last night when they’d first arrived to look around much and he’d collapsed into an exhausted heap pretty much as soon as Bill had laid him down in one of Robert’s spare bedrooms. Robert himself had watched with lidded eyes, something unidentifiable in his expression, in the way he looked at Bill as he’d taken care of Georgie.

Bill is worried, because he’d be an idiot not to be. It’s not exactly a conventional arrangement he’s got going on here, and they’ve only been there one night so for all he knows Robert could still be a psychopath. Just because they survived one night doesn’t mean they’re _ safe _ here, but Bill just didn’t have a choice. He’d needed to get Georgie out of that awful situation: he’d been needing to do that for such a long time, ever since their mother passed away and their father had gradually gotten more and more violent, but when he broke Georgie’s arm… that had been the final straw.

He’d swept a bunch of clothes and Georgie’s toys into a suitcase and had met Georgie at the hospital, had taken a taxi as far as he could afford away from their father’s home. Broke, cold and terrified, he and Georgie had wandered around in the dark at the side of the road until Robert had come across them.

***

_ “You look like you need a place to stay.” The man says, eyeing the cast wrapped around Georgie’s left arm. His gaze sweeps across to Bill, sitting cross legged on the sidewalk next to their suitcase. When he sees the car dawdle at the side of the road and the man starts talking to them, he unfolds his legs from under him and stands up shakily. _

_ “Where are you headed?” He asks, cautiously, because as much as they’re desperate he’s not going to let Georgie get in a car with a total psychopath if he can help it. _

_ “Home,” The guy says unhelpfully, lips curling up at the corners into a smirk. Then, somewhat more helpfully, “You need somewhere to stay? I have a bunch of spare rooms.” _

_ Bill’s heart skips a little, nervous excitement building in his stomach. Yes, they need a place to stay; he spent all their money on the cab drive out of Derry, and he can’t let Georgie sleep out in the cold. But can he really trust some random guy in a car he’s only just met? _

_ Of course not, the rational side of his brain tells him. The less rational side, the one that is more concerned with Georgie being hungry and cold and scared, drowns it out. _

_ “I don’t have any money.” Bill says reluctantly, figuring its best to be straight up about these things. “I can’t p-pay you back. Thanks for the offer, though.” _

_ The man hesitated and Bill fully expects him to shrug and peel away from the sidewalk, carry on down the road like nothing ever happened, but to Bill’s surprise he smiles slowly and holds his hand out of the open window. _

_ “I’m Robert,” he introduces himself when Bill takes his hand. He shakes it once and then holds Bill’s hand, palm facing downwards, his fingertips calloused and rough against Bill’s soft skin. _

_ “I’m Bill,” Bill tells him, feeling slightly breathless. “That’s Georgie, my b-brother.” _

_ Robert glances over Bill’s shoulder to where Georgie is sitting on the suitcase, watching the whole exchange with big, wet eyes. He’s shivering a little, teeth clenched like he’s trying to keep them from chattering, and Bill knows he’s doing it so he won’t worry. Bill knows then that he’d do anything to keep Georgie safe and comfortable and happy. _

“_Well, Billy,” Robert smiles, and it doesn’t feel threatening so much as decided. Robert smiles with intent, and when he looks Bill up and down, he’s fairly sure he knows what that intent is. “I’m sure we could come to some kind of arrangement, no?”_

_ Bill swallows. He’s not exactly dressed to seduce. He’s wearing the same grimy clothes he’d had to pick Georgie up from the hospital in: a white shirt with blue sleeves and a plain pair of jeans. Robert is undeniably attractive, with high cheekbones, dark eyes and slicked back hair. He’s exactly the kind of guy Bill would go for in any other circumstances, and if he’s posing the kind of agreement Bill thinks he’s posing… _

_ “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Bill blurts out, not sure if he’s ruining this potential deal or not. “If I agreed. I don’t know how long I’d need to stay. I don’t have any m-money.” He’s repeating himself, but he needs Robert to know this before he agrees to anything. _

_ “The longer the better.” Robert replies easily, shrugging. Bill swallows. _

_ “Have you ever l-lived with a six year old?” He asks doubtfully. “He can be a handful.” _

_ Robert tilts his head. “I know some people. I can pull a few strings, get him enrolled in a school nearby. That’d keep him occupied.” _

_ “I don’t know if anyone’s gonna come after us.” Bill says honestly. He has no clue how his father will react to their sudden disappearance– Bill’s face could appear on the news as a criminal wanted for kidnapping his little brother, or their father could ignore it and this whole thing could fly under the radar. _

_ “I told you,” Robert says, and this time he sounds dark, threatening, but it isn’t directed towards Bill. “I know some people. You wouldn’t have to worry about that.” _

_ Bill realises with a jolt of queasy surprise that Robert still hasn’t let go of his hand, and their faces are closer than before, with Bill lent over to speak through the open window. They stare at each other in silence for a moment as Robert watches the cogs turning in Bill’s mind. Eventually Bill bites his lip, eyes downcast, and asks, _

_ “What w-would I have to do? If I agreed? What would I…” _

_ Robert’s thumb brushes over Bill’s knuckles in slow, comforting circles and Bill is so tired, he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and just sink into the nice, safe feeling. _

_ “Nothing you wouldn’t enjoy.” Robert murmurs in a low voice, and Bill’s done with fighting. He’ll let Robert have sex with him if it means Georgie is safe and well fed and has a place to sleep. _

_ “Okay,” He swallows, nodding sharply. “Okay.” _

_ He straightens up and beckons to Georgie who, thankfully, doesn’t ask any questions as they both slide into the back seat. Robert turns in his chair and introduces himself to Georgie, even holding his hand out for him to shake which Bill secretly thinks is kind of adorable. _

_ Georgie falls asleep against Bill’s side on the journey but Bill keeps himself awake, wanting to be alert for whatever happens next. He doesn’t know what he just let himself in for. _

_ *** _

Turns out, he still doesn’t. Once Georgie had been put to bed Robert had led him to a different bedroom, one that looked a little more lived in. There was a double bed and a half open wardrobe, a bedside table with a few charging cables and an open book lying on it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was Robert’s room. Bill’s heart thumped in his chest.

But nothing happened. Robert watched as Bill had stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed, and then had switched off the light.

“I have work to do,” he had said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bill had thought there was no way he’d get to sleep being as nervous as he was, but within minutes of his head hitting the pillow his mind went blank and fuzzy, and the next morning he was waking up to Georgie bouncing on the bottom of his bed, demanding breakfast.

There was no sign of Robert and Bill felt a little awkward about going through the man’s cupboards whilst he wasn’t here, but his need to protect Georgie was more important so he rifled through them until he found some cereal and milk. He’d been too nervous to eat, so he’d gone back to lie down in Robert’s bed and had stayed there until after Georgie had finished exploring.

Now, he’s lying with Georgie curled up against his side as Georgie watches the flatscreen TV hanging on the wall opposite the bed. Robert is obviously very well off, even if his house is in the middle of nowhere. Bill is only watching half heartedly, content to lie down with Georgie nearby, but he sits bold upright when he hears movement from downstairs. Robert must be home.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, tucking the blankets up around Georgie’s neck before tiptoeing downstairs. He finds Robert in the kitchen, throwing his jacket over the back of a chair and working the expensive looking coffee machine that Bill hadn’t been able to figure out earlier. He has no clue if Robert has been out all night or if he left early in the morning and he’s far too nervous to ask. Instead he stands in the doorway for a few moments, feeling increasingly awkward because he _ knows _ Robert knows he’s there.

“Hi,” He says eventually, balancing against the doorframe and watching the floor, cheeks pink. Robert looks at him for the first time, narrows his eyes and then looks away, opening a cupboard and retrieving two mugs.

“Coffee?” Robert asks, filling up a second cup without waiting for Bill’s reply. When he hands it to Bill, Bill takes it with trembling fingers and a meek ‘thank you’.

“So why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself, Billy?” He suggests, taking a seat at the head of the elegant marble island separating them. He rests his chin on his palm and watches Bill with the hint of a smirk, eyes alight with amusement. Bill swallows, feeling unnerved.

“What do you w-want to know?”

“Well, why don’t you start with what you were doing out last night, and why you had nowhere to go?” It’s perfectly reasonable for him to want to know that. Of course that would be Robert’s first question, so why is it the last thing Bill is prepared for? 

Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to calm himself down. There’s no harm in telling Robert the truth, he decides, especially after Robert was so kind to him and Georgie in giving them a place to stay. They’re far away from Derry now, and besides, Robert must already know something is wrong seeing as Bill told him people might come looking for them.

“My father b-broke Georgie’s arm.” Bill tells him, point blank. “I decided enough was enough, y’know? So I took him and w-we left.”

Robert doesn’t react at all, and Bill is almost going to ask if he heard that or not when the man speaks.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Billy.” Bill shrugs, feeling kind of uncomfortable. There’s an awkward silence in which Bill tries to busy himself, sipping his coffee and taking in the grand looking kitchen.

“How old are you?” Robert’s voice brings him back to the present.

“Eighteen.” He says without pause. Then, hesitantly, “How about you?”

Robert smiles as though Bill is a small child who must be humoured. “Older than you.” He answers simply, which doesn’t really tell Bill anything but he decides he’s not in any position to complain.

“Um,” Bill swallows again, putting his mug on the counter so Robert won’t see his hands shaking. “I just w-wanted to say thank you again. For letting G-Georgie and me stay here, I mean. I don’t know w-what we would’ve d-done.”

“You’re welcome.” Robert says. He stands suddenly, rounding the island before Bill can get his bearings and coming to a stop in front of him; for a moment Bill thinks Robert is going to do something– kiss him or touch him, try to cash in on the deal they made. He holds his breath and tries not to let their eye contact waver, even if he urges to look away is almost overwhelming.

But then Robert takes a step around him and says, “I’ll be in my office. Find me if you need anything.”

Bill is left standing alone in the kitchen, cheeks flushed, heart pounding, wondering how the hell he managed to get himself into this position. Then, he goes back to Georgie.


	2. Chapter 2

Instead of exploring, the first thing Bill does is take a shower. He feels disgusting, grimy from spending so long at the hospital and then wandering around outside in the dark. Not brushing his teeth or washing his hair before he fell asleep last night doesn’t help either, and he’s fairly sure that, if their security here is reliant on how attracted to Bill Robert actually is then they’re in a pretty precarious position right now.

He leaves Georgie in Robert’s bed watching TV, perfectly content, and goes on the hunt for a bathroom. He figures in a house like this he’ll either stumble across Robert’s personal bathroom or the guest bathrooms will have fucking complimentary shampoo or something. Then he’s struck by an uncomfortable thought– what if Robert doesn’t want Bill using one of his bathrooms? What if he’s supposed to ask permission beforehand? What if that’s what his life is now– seeking permission for things that he could even do at home?

He dismisses the thought, only half convinced that it’s nonsense. Robert had said to find him if Bill needs anything, and Bill doesn’t need Robert’s help to take a shower. He can do that perfectly well on his own.

And he can find a bathroom perfectly easily, by the looks of things, because the second closed door Bill stumbles across opens into a large room with an even larger shower. Bill takes a second to appreciate how luxurious it all looks. A divider separates the shower from the rest of the room, which is filled with a sink, toilet and a bathtub so fancy and ornate that Bill thinks he’s seen an exact replica of it in a period drama on television before.

There are towels folded up neatly on the counter and Bill takes a chance on them being clean, half closing the divider out of a sense of public decency however unlikely someone walking in on him seems. He leaves his clothes in a heap on the floor; they’re just as dirty as he is and the idea of putting them on again after his shower isn’t at all appealing but he doesn’t remember Robert carrying in their suitcase last night and he’s too anxious to ask now.

The water, when he finally figures out how to get it to the right temperature, feels incredible. He tilts his face up and lets it run in rivulets down his forehead, closes his eyes as it washes away the gross feeling he’s been carrying around with him. The glass shower wall fogs up with steam but Bill still doesn’t want to leave. He never got the opportunity to enjoy showers in his own house: their bathroom was tiny and falling apart. His father would yell at him if he took too long in there or used all the hot water, so he learnt to limit his time to fifteen minute slots, long enough to get the job done without risking his father’s anger

Thoughts of his old home lead to thoughts of this new, strange place Bill finds himself in and his mind drifts to the arrangement he’s made. It seemed so simple in the heat of the moment: he and Georgie needed a place to stay, and if he had to have sex with someone for that to happen then so be it. But now… now it seems less black and white. He’s been here for a whole night and Robert hasn’t come onto him, has barely even  _ talked _ to him. Is he expecting Bill to be some sort of expert at sex? Is that why he's waiting, why he agreed to this deal in the first place?

Bill has messed around a little in the past, mostly with other confused, ‘straight’ teenage boys, but he’s certainly not a pro at anything. The extent of Bill’s sexual expertise is handjobs and masturbation, neither of which seem like a fair trade for what they’re getting in return. Is he really going to lose his virginity to a guy he barely knows so that they have a place to sleep?

_ It beats Georgie having his other arm broken,  _ a voice in Bill’s head whispers nastily. He squashes it down, even though he knows it’s true. He should prepare himself. Who knows what might happen otherwise– he wants to think that Robert wouldn’t force him to do anything but he’s known the man since last night. That’s not a reliable basis to form any opinion on.

It isn’t particularly pleasant,  _ preparing himself,  _ and afterwards Bill feels a little shaky on his feet. His cock is half hard between his legs like it can’t decide between arousal or anxiety and the water is beginning to run cold, but he’s clean and ready for if Robert wants to do anything. He turns the water off decisively, grabbing for a towel and wrapping it around his waist as he steps out of the shower. The cold air brings goosebumps up on skin but the softness of the towel almost distracts him. The towels his father owned were always scratchy and harsh.

He pulls back the divider and blinks in confusion when he finds that his clothes are not in the messy pile on the floor that he left them in. Instead, a new set of clothes has been placed neatly on the lid of the toilet without an explanation. Bill shivers at the thought of Robert creeping in here whilst he was naked in the shower, wonders if he was visible at all. 

Despite this, the clothes are clean and seem way comfier than his own. Robert has left him a soft pair of tracksuit bottoms and a plain cotton t-shirt, both grey and baggy on Bill’s small frame. He rakes his fingers through his hair to get rid of the knots and runs his mouth under the tap when he can’t find any toothpaste.

Bill feels, for the first time in a long time, comfortable.

He finds Robert’s bedroom again without a problem, following the sound of the TV. It’s only when he gets closer and hears Georgie’s high pitched laughter and the low, muffled voice of somebody else that he realises Robert is in there with him. The thought has his heartbeat spiking nervously and he has to swallow past the lump in his throat before he pushes the door open.

Georgie looks happy to see him but Robert’s expression is passive, impossible to read. He meets Bill’s eyes for a moment before his gaze drops, slides down the rest of his body where he must be wearing, Bill assumes, Robert’s clothes. When Robert looks back up again he looks different– something in his eyes has changed. He looks hungry. He looks  _ feral. _ Bill is a little worried about his proximity to Georgie.

They’re both on the bed, Georgie sitting cross legged on the mattress whilst Robert leans against the headboard with his legs stretched out. He’s wearing slacks and a button up white shirt, which Bill hadn’t noticed before, but the top few buttons are undone. Bill is struck with the sudden, unexpected desire to untuck Robert’s shirt, to mess up his smart outfit and neatly styled hair.

“You were gone for  _ ages!” _ Georgie complains, though he keeps his eyes on the cartoon playing out in front of them. Bill swallows again and his gaze drops to the floor.

“Sorry,” He says softly, addressing both of them. Georgie shrugs.

“It’s okay. Robert said not to bother you. He said I can watch cartoons for as long as I want!” Georgie seems so purely happy that Bill’s heart feels like it could burst. They could never really watch TV back with their father; there was always the risk that he’d come back drunk and angry and Georgie would be in the firing line, so he knows how much this means to his little brother.

God, Bill has no idea how to be a parent. He’s looked after Georgie ever since he was born, he’s practically raised him, but when it comes to actual parenting… Bill is left completely in the dark.

“Well,” Bill starts, wetting his lips nervously. “That’s n-nice of Robert. Did you s-say thank you?”

“He said thank you,” Robert interrupts from where he’s been passively watching the conversation unfold, patting Georgie’s shoulder. He never takes his eyes off Bill. “Your brother is very well behaved, Billy.”

Georgie beams. Bill blushes, although he doesn’t know why.

“Are you gonna come sit with us, Bill?” Georgie asks, dazzling Bill with a gap toothed smile. Looking over the scene in front of him, Bill decides there is probably enough room for him to sit on the bed as well without touching Robert; without replying, he crawls up from the foot of the bed and situates himself in between Georgie and Robert, sitting cross legged with his back ramrod straight.

Bill tries to let himself get lost in whatever’s happening on TV, but the pictures flash before his eyes without any real meaning. Georgie is laughing but to Bill they mean nothing– he’s too nervous, waiting for something to happen and ignoring the prickling feeling of Robert watching him.

After a few minutes of sitting like this, Bill feels the light tickle of fingers across his shoulders and he tenses up. Robert’s hand smoothies down his back, through the middle of his shoulder blades and over the dip in his spine, all the way down to the gentle curve where the small of his back meets his ass. Bill feels very on edge and he knows Robert can tell.

“Relax,” Robert murmurs, quiet enough that only Bill hears it. “Loosen up.” Without disturbing Georgie too much Robert draws Bill backwards until he’s leaning against Robert’s chest, head resting stiffly on his shoulder. He can feel Robert’s smile against his temple as he starts to stroke Bill’s hair, scratching his nails over Bill’s scalp.

He has no idea how long they stay like that. Bill is willing to bet that neither of them are paying too much attention to the screen or what's going on around them. After a while Bill starts to relax, let’s his eyes shut and his breathing evens out. That’s why, when Robert finally gets up to leave without a word, Bill is so baffled.

Bill only waits a few minutes before he follows Robert out, too overwhelmed by curiosity to sit around and wait any longer. He feels breathless, skin tingling everywhere Robert touched him, and if nothing else he wants to get to know the man he's going to be living with a little better.

“I’ll b-be right back.” Bill tells Georgie, who barely seems to have noticed the disturbance. He shrugs in acknowledgment but doesn’t look away from the screen. Bill smiles fondly and ruffles his hair before he leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

He finds Robert in the bathroom Bill just left, retrieving washcloths and clean towels from a cabinet under the sink. He straightens up when Bill comes in, and Bill realises for the first time how tall Robert actually is. He himself has always been taller than most of his friends but Robert is at least half a head taller still, and it’s kind of intimidating.

Robert doesn’t say anything, but he does regard Bill with lidded eyes and a dark stare. Bill– Bill doesn’t really know what his plan was when he’d left the bedroom. Part of him had intended to thank Robert again - perhaps ask for a few more details on this ‘deal’ they’ve arranged - but now, eyes darting between Robert’s mouth and his skin visible through the shirt, he makes up his mind.

“I just wanted to… to s-say thank you again.” Bill says, stepping closer when Robert doesn’t give any indication that he’s going to speak. “For everything.” Bill can’t make eye contact as he reaches between them, knuckles brushing the fabric of Robert’s shirt. He runs his fingertips over the waistband of Robert’s trousers, slowly untucking his shirt, and is only a little disconcerted by how quiet the man is being.

As soon as he makes contact with Robert’s skin, however, Robert reacts, moving so quickly and unexpectedly that Bill stumbles backwards half a step. Robert catches Bill’s wrist and, with an iron grip, spins him around so that his back is flush against Robert’s front. Bill struggles on instinct– not because he actually wants to get away from Robert, but because in the past, when someone has restricted his movement, it hasn’t ended well for Bill.

Robert holds him still with a firm arm across Bill’s chest and, when Bill has taken a moment to recognise his surroundings, he stops struggling. Without warning Robert’s hand finds Bill’s cock, already half hard in his tracksuits, and strokes him through the fabric. The drag of his trousers against the sensitive skin has Bill twitching with overstimulation, feeling embarrassingly close after one touch. If Robert didn’t know Bill was a virgin before he almost certainly will after this.

“F-Fuck,” Bill breathes. Robert’s arm is still holding Bill to his chest but his free hand snakes upwards until he’s gripping the hinge of Bill’s jaw, turning his face forcibly so that they’re both staring at each other in the mirror that hangs on the opposite wall. Bill looks pretty wrecked already, hair messy and cheeks flushed, pupils dark with arousal. Robert looks calm and put together, put his knuckles are turning white with how hard they’re gripping Bill’s face. There will probably be bruises there tomorrow.

“I want you,” Robert presses his face into Bill’s hair and inhales, whispering harshly into his ear. “To watch. Don’t take your eyes off the mirror, you understand?” So Robert has a thing for power. It isn’t like Bill is surprised, considering the nature of their agreement.

“Yes,” Bill gasps, biting his lip to muffle the sound as Robert slips his hand inside Bill’s tracksuits. He’s not wearing underwear so it’s easy for Robert to wrap a fist around his cock and stroke leisurely. It’s such an intense feeling, one that Bill has never experienced before: Robert’s hands are big and warm. It’s almost too much when he plays with the head of Bill’s cock, thumbs the slit and rubs his palm over the tip until Bill is trembling and crying. Robert is still watching him darkly and Bill doesn’t dare look away from his own reflection.

“Robert, I’m gonna c-c-c–” Bill can’t get the stupid word out and Robert isn’t slowing down, isn’t stopping. He’s going to keep jerking Bill off until he comes and makes a mess inside the new clothes Robert gave him. 

“Easy, Billy,” Robert murmurs, applying the slightest amount of pressure over his windpipe and restricting his flow of air. Bill’s eyes flutter shut and, in response, Robert shakes him by the throat. “Eyes open. Take your time. Picture the word in your head. Now try again.”

A tear spills over and rolls down Bill’s cheek. Robert licks it up, tongue warm and wet and surprisingly not disgusting. “I’m gonna c-come.” Bill finally manages to say. It’s unlikely that Georgie can hear them from the other room with the television on, but Bill doesn’t want to risk giving him that type of trauma on top of everything else.

“Good boy,” Robert says with the hint of a smile. Bill pants, fingers scrabbling at the counter as Robert continues to stroke him fast and tight, and it only gets more intense when Robert presses his lips to Bill’s throat. He lets out an embarrassingly soft moan and tilts his head, craving more touch, more affection, more anything.

“I’m gonna come,” Bill says again, thankful that he can still get the words out. His head lolls against Robert’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Robert says, sounding slightly breathless himself. “Then come.”

Bill does. His orgasm builds and builds and then crashes down over him like a wave. He must close his eyes because his vision goes black and he doesn’t remember making any noise, but when he comes to his throat feels scratchy like he’s been moaning loudly for hours. Robert looks smug as he pulls his hand out of Bill’s pants and releases him, washing his hands in the sink.

Bill leans against the nearest wall to catch his breath and watch Robert. He hadn’t let Bill do what Bill is literally here to do, and it just doesn’t make any sense. Should he offer again? Should he try harder? What does Robert want him to do?

“Go back to Georgie, lie down.” Robert interrupts his thoughts as though he knew exactly what Bill was wondering. “He’s a good kid. Go relax. I have some things to be doing.”

Bill opens his mouth to say something, though he has no idea what, but Robert, once again, has already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is all over the place lol but I hope you enjoy anyway! <3

Bill’s number one priority has always been Georgie. Back when he lived in Derry he had a lot on his mind: passing all his classes, spending time with his friends, avoiding his father’s fist and keeping the house clean. All of that paled in comparison to Georgie, though. Bill’s job was always to make sure that Georgie was safe, above all.

So now, shut up in Robert’s luxurious house with plenty of food and no one to beat them up, Bill is at a loss for what to do. School is a distant memory, he’s miles away from his friends and Georgie is finally, blissfully safe. Bill should be happier than he’s ever been, and he would be if he weren’t so horribly bored all the time.

Bill cleans. He cleans the kitchen and the living room and the bathroom. He only doesn’t clean Robert’s bedroom because he doesn’t know whether Robert would appreciate that or not, but it seems like he tidies Georgie’s room all the time. Toys keep appearing out of nowhere, sometimes the only indication that Robert lives with them at all.

He cooks as well. Robert is away a lot of the time, but Bill always leaves an extra plate warming in the oven for if he comes back hungry, and in the morning it’s always gone. There’s only so much TV you can watch before you start to lose your mind, Bill decides.

Sometimes Robert is around, and those are always the liveliest. He’s always very civil, very friendly towards Georgie, complimentary about the work Bill does around the house. He’ll come to bed with Bill occasionally after Bill is already half asleep– he’ll slip in under the covers and Bill will feel the bed dip. Sometimes he wraps an arm around Bill’s waist and spoons him, other times they stay cold and separate on opposite sides of the bed.

Since that first time in the bathroom, Robert has only ever touched Bill once. He had crawled into bed late, hours after Bill, and rolled him onto his side. He’d slipped a hand inside Bill’s boxers and jerked him off so hard that Bill had to muffle his cries by biting his pillow. Afterwards, Robert had rolled onto his back and gone to sleep. They didn’t speak to each other at all, and in the morning Robert was gone.

Somehow, it never gets awkward, but it sure does get boring.

***

For the first time in as long as he’s been there, Bill wakes up next to Robert. It takes him a few seconds to realise that they’re both topless and the reason he’s so warm is that he’s nestled against Robert’s body, head laying on his chest with Robert’s arm slung around him. It takes him a few seconds longer to realise the reason he’s woken up is Georgie, bouncing on the bottom of the bed.

“Billy!” Georgie cries, pinching his leg through the covers. “Can we go outside? Please? It’s snowing!”

Bill groans and rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm, blinking the sleep away whilst he waits for his blurry vision to adjust. Robert stirs as Bill sits up to look out of the window. Sure enough a layer of snow coats the tops of the trees that he can see and snowflakes fall, heavy and blinding white, onto the ground below.

“What time is it?” Bill asks, still too sleepy to function. Georgie shrugs. Bill falls back into his pillow and sighs.

“Go and get dressed,” Bill tells him wearily, already knowing he’s going to give in. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Georgie squeals as he leaves the room. Propped up on an elbow, Bill looks down at Robert’s sleeping face. He looks peaceful, skin smooth and unmarried by worry lines. Curious and a little nervous, Bill bends down and kisses Robert’s cheek chastely.

What if Robert doesn’t want him to do this? What if he gets angry?

He kisses him again, on the edge of his jaw this time, watches as Robert’s eyes flicker under his eyelids. God, it’s been weeks since Bill last got off with Robert’s hand wrapped around his cock and a pillow stuffed in his mouth. How can he be getting turned on just by pecking Robert?

Robert blinks awake slowly, eyes falling on Bill quickly. He pushes himself up until he’s leaning back against the headboard and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. Bill swallows, mouth suddenly dry; Robert is breathtakingly attractive, the muscles in his arms rippling under the skin and his voice gravelly with sleep when he speaks.

“Good morning,” Bill sits up and leans back on his hands, a little on edge with lying down while Robert is sitting up.

“Morning,” Bill murmurs, feeling embarrassed. He’s slept in the same bed as Georgie of course, but that’s vastly different: this is the first time he’s been so close to Robert, not counting the two times Robert touched his dick.

“Was that Georgie?” Robert swings his legs out of bed. Bill watches his naked back, heat creeping up to colour his cheeks. He looks away hurriedly when Robert turns around, halfway through pulling on a shirt. This is also the first time Bill has seen him in casual clothes. It’s… jarring.

“Um, yeah.” Bill answers, feeling awkward. “Um, he w-was asking if we could g-go outside? It’s snowing. Would that be okay? I could just t-take him into the garden if you’d p-prefer?”

Robert peers out the window at the dusty layer of snow and tilts his head, consideringly. When he turns around to face Bill again he’s smiling slightly, eyes flickering between the wardrobe and Bill’s huddled form, duvet pulled up to his waist.

“I have a pretty big garden,” Robert says.

That’s how Bill finds himself being packed into a soft, puffy jacket that’s so warm Bill begins to sweat underneath all the layers. The coat is Robert’s, along with the hat and scarf he’s wearing as well. Georgie is bundled up in a similar outfit, although Bill doesn’t think Robert’s coats would fit so well on him.

“This s-seems… a little excessive?” Bill suggests gently, not wanting Robert to think he’s being ungrateful. Robert seems genuinely excited at the prospect of going out in the snow - Bill gets the feeling he probably hasn’t done it in a while - matched only by Geprgie’s enthusiasm. He’s practically vibrating out of his gloves.

“Shut  _ up,  _ Billy!” He complains. Bill doesn’t bother to tell him off for it. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Bill doesn’t like the snow, but he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Robert raises an eyebrow at Bill, mock accusing, and Bill knows he’s flushing for an entirely different reason now. “Oh really?” He asks, amused. “Well, we’ll have to change his mind, won’t we Georgie?”

Locking the door behind them all, Robert’s fingers fumble with the keys and they fall to the ground. Bill reaches for them at the same time as Robert, who pulls back after their fingers brush. Bill slips them into his pocket, heart racing. 

Georgie rushes along the pathway ahead of them as Robert falls back into step with Bill. He really does have a huge garden hidden behind his house, and covered in snow like it is it seems like a real life winter wonderland. Bill’s breath is visible in the air and he blows out in a long exhale, watching the way it curls and disappears. He stops when he catches Robert watching him.

“S-Sorry,” He says, embarrassed.

Robert is quiet for a moment and Bill watches Georgie as a distraction. He has to be on lookout for if Georgie tries to get down in the snow, because as much fun as making snow angels may be, they won’t be much consolation when Georgie gets sick. 

Out of nowhere, Robert speaks. “Do you want me to find you a speech therapist?”

Bill blinks in surprise, mouth opening and shutting a few times. He has no idea what to say, and he’s even more conscious about his stutter now that he knows Robert is thinking about it. He had a few free sessions with a speech therapist at school but after his allotted sessions were over, he couldn’t afford to continue and his father certainly wouldn’t have been open to the idea.

“I d-don’t know. I’m sorry if it’s an-noying, it usually isn’t so b-bad.” Bill replies awkwardly, half wishing he could pull the bobble hat all the way down over his face.

Robert half shrugs as though to say it’s entirely up to Bill. He doesn’t offer any other kind of response and Bill is struck by another, different memory. 

“Um, Robert?” Bill speaks up nervously. “I was just wondering… I mean, no p-pressure, of course, but like– before, you m-mentioned you could get G-Georgie into a school? Without anyone… f-finding him?”

He doesn’t want to start annoying Robert by making demands but it’s been a few weeks now and he doesn’t want Georgie to fall behind with his schoolwork. If Bill himself is never going to graduate or go to college then Georgie needs to be the one to do it.

“You want that?” Robert doesn’t take his eyes off Georgie when he speaks, so Bill takes the opportunity to admire him. There’s a lock of hair falling over his forehead that Bill wants to tuck back under Robert’s hat.

“Mhm,” Bill hums, a little embarrassed to actually speak now. Robert is about to reply when something hurtling through the air hits him directly in the cheek: a snowball explodes into a thousand tiny snowflakes and melts against his skin. Georgie’s laugh rings out, loud in the quiet of the countryside.

“Georgie!” Bill shouts, mortified. God, Robert probably didn’t want to come out here in the first place. He was just appeasing a six year old and now he’s hand a snowball to the face for his troubles. 

And then Robert ducks down, scoops up a handful of snow and hurls it in Georgie’s direction so accurately that it hits him right in the middle of the chest. Georgie gapes in what seems to be betrayal as Bill looks on, baffled. This is… not where he expected the day to go.

“So, why don’t you like snow?” Robert asks him, smirking, already bending down to prepare for his next attack. 

“It’s cold,” Bill starts warily, eyeing Georgie. The two are acting far too suspicious to be innocent here. “And w-wet, and it’s horrible when it gets down the b-back of your–  _ fuck! _ Oh my god!”

As he’s been talking, eyes trained on Georgie, Robert has managed to collect an armful of snow and throw it, letting it rain down over Bill’s head and drip down the back of his collar. He shivers, glaring indignantly, for once not even worried that Robert will find him impertinent or annoying. Fuck him if he thinks he’s getting away with that.

Bill has never taken part in a snowball fight before. 

He loses.

***

In hindsight, Bill should have known it would be too good to be true. Having a family, even a small, fucked up family like this, doesn’t just happen overnight and Bill shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. More importantly, he shouldn’t have gotten Georgie’s hopes up.

He thinks all this with a sinking heart and dread unfurling in his stomach. There’s a man sitting on the doorstep of Robert’s house, foot tapping against the ground impatiently. As they approach, he stands up and sneers.

The man is tall: not quite as tall as Robert but stockier, like he hasn’t seen the outside of a gym in a while. His skin is pallid with deep set wrinkles around his mouth and forehead. Bill doesn’t like the way he looks at Georgie.

Neither does Robert, apparently, because as they arrive at the gate he holds an arm out, keeping Bill half hidden behind him. The command is unspoken but firm:  _ stay behind me.  _ Bill’s fingers curl around Georgie’s shoulders to hold him in place.

“What are you doing here?” Robert asks the stranger, voice cold and dangerous in a way that Bill has never heard it before. Chilled, a shiver runs up his spine. Not such a stranger after all, the man spits on Robert’s doorstep and takes a lumbering, menacing step forward.

“Waiting for you,” he jerks his head. “Didn’t realise you had a wife and kid. That why you keep to yourself all the way out here?”

A muscle tics in Robert’s jaw but other than that he doesn’t react to the man’s goading. Georgie has fallen silent beside Bill, trembling a little in the cold, having sensed something is wrong. Bill stays still and silent as well, waiting for Robert to give any sort of indication about what the hell is going on.

He doesn’t. He just turns to Bill and says, “Take Georgie and go inside. Right now,” in such a way that Bill doesn’t think objecting is an option. Robert’s gaze is so intense that Bill has to blink a few times to realise that Robert and the other man are waiting for him to react.

“Okay,” Bill breathes, watching Robert with wide, worried eyes. He wants to say something else, ask if he should call the police, but Robert has already turned away from him and Bill has a feeling that lingering would be a bad idea. Besides, he wants to get Georgie out of there as quickly as possible and leaving him inside, scared and alone, just isn’t happening.

The door swings shut behind them and the last thing Bill sees is Robert stepping forward suddenly, expression murderous. Bill wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that glare. His heart pounds nervously; should he look out the window? Does he want to see what’s about to happen? He should, definitely, because he needs to know what kind of person he’s allowing to be around Georgie but Bill just knows that Robert doesn’t want him to witness it. He lingers hopelessly in the entrance, Georgie’s clammy hands clasped firmly in his.

“Billy?” Georgie asks, voice quiet and uncertain. “Who was that man?”

“I d-don’t know,” Bill replies honestly, distracted, before deciding that he should at least try to reassure his brother. “A f-friend of Robert’s.”

“He didn’t look very friendly.” Georgie points out, because he’s not an idiot and he knows when Bill is lying to him. He’s astute and if there’s one thing he hates, it’s Bill being patronising. This time he doesn’t whine about it though, perhaps because he’s picking up on Bill’s anxious energy.

“Hey, go p-put your coat in your r-room, okay? I’ll make you a h-hot chocolate.” Maybe avoiding the whole issue isn’t the most mature thing to do but at least Georgie will be too distracted by the promise of sugar that Bill can stress about it in secret.

Georgie wrinkles his nose suspiciously but does as Bill says, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Bill watches him disappear with overwhelming affection.

His own coat is damp from melted snowflakes but he’s too nervous to go upstairs and put it away to dry. He can’t hear if anything is happening outside but he wants to stay close in case Robert needs help. Sighing, Bill heads to the kitchen to hang his coat over the radiator, but as he does so he hears a jingling sound from the pocket. When he puts his hand inside to see what it is, he feels the smooth metal curve of the front door key. 

He hadn’t needed it. The door had been unlocked when they’d come back. Bill freezes.

A noise behind him makes him startle and he turns, heart thumping an irregular beat in his chest.

“Georgie? Is that–” A fist makes contact with his face before he can finish the question and Bill stumbles back into the kitchen counter, surprise rendering him useless for a good few seconds. His lip splits and he tastes copper on his tongue.

The intruder takes advantage of Bill’s moment of indecision and grabs him by the hair, dragging him forward and hurling him to the ground. He lands harshly, scraping the skin on the palms of his hands as he catches himself. Scrambling backwards across the floor of the kitchen, all Bill can think is,  _ god, I hope Georgie stays upstairs. Wait, fuck, what if there’s another one upstairs? _

This thought is too horrible to think about and Bill is struck by a rush of adrenaline. He’s in a fucking kitchen, there are probably knives in every drawer. If he can just grab one he could at least protect himself if this guy tries to lunge at him again.

He’s obviously a companion of whoever was waiting outside: he’s shorter and less muscled but compared to Bill he may as well be a bodybuilder. Bill has no hope without something to defend himself with.

“S-S-Stop–” Bill spits out, fear making his stammer ten times worse. The man sneers at him and approaches, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat. Bill sucks in a breath, tears gathering in his eyes. Is he about to be shot? Is he about to die? He moved halfway across the country to get away from danger only to die a few weeks later.

“I’m gonna fucking enjoy this,” the man rasps, voice thick with an accent Bill can’t place. He grins threateningly as he retrieves and unsheathes a knife from his pocket, the blade short but serrated and stained with old blood. Bill gulps. He can’t just lie there and wait for this man to torture him to death. 

Taking a risk, Bill leaps to his feet and tries to run for the stairs. If he can just upstairs he can lock himself and Georgie in a bathroom and– what? Call the police? With what phone? Even if he had a phone, he doesn’t even know where he is. He’s fucked, no matter what.

He’s fucked anyway, because the man is clearly faster than Bill. He grabs him by the collar of his coat and allows his running momentum to push them both forward, until Bill’s face is pressed against the wall and the man’s chest is flush against his back. Bill can feel his breath, heavy and hot, against the back of his neck.

“Gray is gonna wish he’d given me my  _ fucking _ money.” There’s a cold, sharp sting against Bill’s throat as the knife bites into his skin, the war, trickle of blood as the blade digs in, and then a loud shot rings out. Suddenly the pressure is gone, the knife is gone, and Bill slumps forward, knees hitting the floor so hard that he’s sure he’ll have bruises by tomorrow.

Hurrying to turn around, Bill sees the man who had attacked him drop to the floor, a bullet hole in the back of his skull. Robert stands above him, eyes wild, face sprayed with blood, holding a gun. Bill hadn’t even heard the door open.

“W-W-What– is he–” Robert drops to his knees, sliding the gun across the kitchen floor away from them. When Bill flinches back he holds his hands above his head as though in surrender and starts to inch forward.

“Billy,” He says softly, as though trying to comfort a spooked animal. “It’s okay. It’s just me, you’re safe.”

Bill feels the first few tears spill down his cheeks and when Robert finally reaches him and brushes them away with the pad of his thumb, Bill doesn’t argue. Robert cups Bill’s face and tilts it from side to side, examining the damage; only now is Bill starting to feel the ache that a split lip and a black eye will give you. He’s lucky that’s all he got.

“Who was that?” Bill chokes out through his tears, hands wrapping around Robert’s wrists just for something to cling onto. 

“Shh,” Robert moves his hand so that it cups the back of Bill’s neck instead and pulls him forward so that Bill’s face is buried in Robert’s chest. He’s warm and he pets Bill’s hair, so Bill doesn’t complain as much as maybe he should. 

“Some business associates of mine.” Robert tells him in a calm voice. “They’ll never hurt you again. I’m so sorry that happened. I should have been more careful, I should have–”

“What do you  _ do?”  _ Normally, Bill would feel bad for interrupting him. Now he just doesn’t care. Robert clearly feels guilty but Bill wants an explanation, not an apology.

It’s funny how Bill has never really wondered what Robert does for work. He’s considered asking him before as an ice breaker, as a way to get to know him better, but he’s never really considered how Robert affords this grand house and everything inside it. Whatever it is, Bill is fairly sure now that it isn’t legal.

Robert presses his lips together into a thin line like he’d been hoping Bill wouldn’t ask that. Rather than refuse to answer completely, he brushes a thumb over the bruise on Bill’s face and says, “Later. Right now I need to clean your face up, and you need to find Georgie.”

“Georgie, oh my god.” Bill stumbles to his feet, almost falling as his knees protest. He has to lean on Robert in order to stay upright and cling onto the bannister as they ascend the stairs. “I can’t b-bring him down here.” Bill tells Robert, almost an afterthought. “Not whilst that guy is s-still…”

“I’ll deal with it later.” Robert promises. “Right now I need to deal with you.”

God, he’s just seen Robert kill a man. When is that going to sink in?

Robert guides Bill to his bedroom, opening the door for him. Georgie is sitting on the floor, hunched up with a tear stained face and red eyes. He jumps up when the door opens and hurtles forward when he sees who it is, flinging himself at Bill and hugging him around the waist. Bill tries to hug him back, but he feels too shaky on his legs to even stand up alone.

Sensing this, Robert puts a gentle but firm hand on Georgie’s shoulder and guides him away a little. “Easy, buddy.” He says, tone light to keep Georgie at ease. “Let’s get Billy lying down before we jump on him, hey?”

“I heard a bang.” Georgie sniffs, voice wet. “I thought maybe…”

“He’s fine, little buddy.” Robert props Bill up against the headboard and then hooks his hands underneath Georgie’s armpits to hoist him up onto the bed. “Here, see for yourself. All in one piece, right?”

Bill holds out a hand for Georgie to take. “I’m alright, Georgie.” He promises, trying for a smile. His split lip makes him wince. Robert must notice it because he slinks out of the room and returns a minute later with what looks to be a first aid box. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ruffles Georgie’s hair.

“Is it alright if I get a look at the patient, doctor?” He asks with a smile, holding a band aid up for Georgie to inspect. “You can do the honours, of course.”

Georgie wipes his nose on his sleeve - a habit that Bill has been trying to get him to quit for years - and nods, taking the plaster with a shaky hand. He crawls out of the way, but only far enough so that Robert can get better access to Bill. He stays close enough to keep holding Bill’s hand.

“This will sting a little,” Robert warns him, spraying antiseptic onto a cotton wool ball and dabbing it against a cut across Bill’s cheekbone. Bill hisses through his teeth but doesn’t complain, just sits through the uncomfortable feeling until Robert has decided the wound is clean enough. 

Then he pulls out a tube of something that Bill doesn’t know, squeezes some cream onto his finger and smears it over the bruise covering Bill’s eye. His fingers dance over the skin lightly, never pressing hard enough to hurt Bill wants to close his eyes and fall asleep to the feeling but he knows Georgie will get upset if he passes out now.

When Robert is done he holds Bill’s chin with a thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. “I’ll get you some ice for this.” He murmurs, tracing his fingertips against Bill’s split lip. His jaw clenches and the anger reminds Bill of how Robert had looked in the kitchen: crazed, maniacal.

“He shouldn’t have touched you.” Robert says, voice low. He leans in to place a long, chaste kiss to Bill’s mouth, seemingly not caring about Georgie watching them in confusion off to the side. When he pulls back Bill feels dizzy, though whether that’s from his blow to the head or Robert's kiss he isn’t sure.

Breathless and wide eyed, the only thing Bill can think of to say is, “I was gonna make Georgie hot chocolate.”

Robert smiles indulgently. “Okay,” He says smoothly. “Why don’t I go and get you some ice and make Georgie a hot chocolate, how does that sound?”

Bill nods dumbly. When Robert raises an eyebrow at Georgie he nods, smiling timidly despite his earlier panic. “Can I put the bandaid on now, Robert?”

Bill plans to hold Robert to his promise of ‘later’, his promise of an explanation. He needs to know who he’s entrusted Georgie’s life to, because even though Robert seems like the sweetest man alive when he pats Georgie’s head and says, “I reckon so, buddy.” He just killed a man and the corpse is still in the kitchen.

Right now, though, Bill is too tired. He just wants to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s taken so long to update! Hopefully you enjoy this chapter. For a fic primarily based around sex, there has been a disappointing lack of it so far so I promise I’ll change that soon as well :D

Bill wakes with a slow, spreading headache. Georgie is crushed against one side of his body and on his other side the sheets are wrinkled as though someone had been lying there earlier. Robert is nowhere to be seen but, when Bill sits up, careful not to disturb Georgie, there’s a glass of water on the bedside table along with two small, round pills.

Bill takes them despite not knowing what they are, even though he should be more careful around virtual strangers, even after everything he saw yesterday…

Fuck,  _ yesterday.  _ The memories hit Bill all at once with a staggering force and he swallows, stroking a hand lightly over Georgie’s hair. God, he was so stupid thinking he could run away and keep Georgie safe. He was an idiot for accepting the first offer he got from a total stranger and for thinking that it could actually be a genuinely good deal. Of course it would be too good to be true.

But Bill still needs to talk to Robert. He has no money, nowhere to go, no other options; he doesn’t want to go crawling back to their abusive father where Georgie can have his other arm broken, but how can he stay here knowing what he knows, after seeing what he’s seen?

He brushes away tears angrily as he slides out of bed. Georgie will be waking up soon and he’ll want breakfast. Bill remembers how caring Robert was the night before, how gentle he’d been with Bill, how sweet he’d been to Georgie. Bill figures he won’t mind if he makes a few pancakes.

He doesn’t. Robert is sitting at the island in the kitchen when Bill walks in, a cup of coffee clutched in his hands. He’s dressed in a soft looking hoodie and tracksuit pants, reassuringly casual to match the dark bruise around his eye that Bill had been too shell-shocked to notice yesterday. The dead body is, thankfully, gone.

“Hey,” Robert is the first to speak. He doesn’t move, which gives Bill the courage to sidestep towards the fridge. He doesn’t want to turn his back on Robert, which feels ridiculous considering he’s been sleeping in the man’s bed for the past few weeks. If Robert wanted him dead, he’d probably be dead. 

“How’s your head?” Robert continues when Bill maintains his steely silence, back pressed up against the cupboards. He looks a little sheepish which is nice, but not nice enough that Bill forgets he’s a murderer.

“Hurts,” Bill grunts, monosyllabic. And then as a gesture of goodwill, because he doesn’t want to risk angering Robert, “You?” 

“Don’t worry about me,” Robert tells him dismissively, taking another slow sip of coffee. Bill decides it’s safe to turn his back on him for long enough to open the fridge and he sets about getting the ingredients for pancakes. He can feel Robert’s eyes on him the whole time, but there’s so much that he wants to ask that he doesn’t even know where to start.

“I suppose you have some questions?” Robert prompts after a while. This, for some reason, gets on Bill’s nerves more than anything else and he whirls around to face Robert, cheeks red with fury.

“No  _ shit _ I have questions.” Bill hisses, conscious that he shouldn’t raise his voice. Georgie waking up after everything that happened yesterday to hear a screaming match downstairs probably isn’t the best way to go. “I have  _ loads _ of f-fucking questions. What the fuck w-w-was that? What the  _ fuck?  _ Who  _ were _ those g-guys?”

Robert stands and holds his hands up placatingly, his mug pushed to the side and abandoned. He starts to round the island but stops when he sees Bill flinch away. Bill’s not even aware that he does it, but he’s been in this situation entirely too many times to think that he’s safe; someone gets mad, they get aggressive, they pretend to be sorry. Bill’s seen it all before.

“I know you might not want to hear it, but you need to calm down.” Robert tells him, infuriatingly calm. “You hit your head pretty hard and sleeping it off might not have been the best thing to do. Please don’t get worked up.”

Bill is too fucking speechless by the audacity of this statement to point out the fact that he didn’t ‘hit his head’: he had the shit beaten out of him by Robert’s mysterious work friend who Robert then murdered. As it is, he’s too busy flapping his arms and opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish to put this into words.

“I promise I’ll answer whatever questions you have,” Robert speaks in a slow, soothing voice. Bill really wishes it didn’t have such an effect on him. “But please sit down first.”

Bill doesn’t think it's a question. He sits, even though everything in him is screaming not to. Common sense would have him grab Georgie and leg it out of the door as quickly as possible, but then common sense would probably have had him call the police the first time their father got violent, and look how that worked out.

“Who were those m-men?” Is the first thing Bill asks. Robert kind of answered this question already, but Bill wants to hear it again, if only to assure himself that Robert’s story hasn’t changed. 

“People I used to work with.” Robert says simply. It shouldn’t be reassuring, the ease with which he answers, but somehow the suggestion that Robert might lie to Bill now is scarier than whatever truth Robert could reveal.

Well, maybe not, but Bill thinks the point still stands.

“‘Used to’ because they’re d-dead now?” Bill can’t help but say sarcastically, fingers drumming anxiously against the counter. 

“‘Used to’ because they were bad at their job, and they were putting a lot of people at risk.” Robert corrects, remaining maddeningly calm even in the face of Bill’s attitude. He feels more than ever like a stupid, eighteen year old kid who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“What  _ is _ your j-job?” Bill asks, somewhat sheepishly. He wishes Robert hadn’t made him sit down so that he could have something to do with his hands. Making pancakes would be an effective distraction.

“I kill people,” Robert replies.

Bill freezes. His hands lay flat against the tabletop and he clenches his jaw so hard that his molars grind together painfully.

“What?” He asks, even though he heard Robert the first time. For some reason, he doesn’t really need clarification; Robert killing people for a living makes perfect sense all on its own. Bill tries to picture Robert in an office, working a nine-to-five job, and he just can’t make the image stick.

“I’m paid to kill people.” He doesn’t elaborate, which Bill is only half grateful for. There isn’t much more you can say about a topic like that, unless Bill asks Robert to spill his entire life story, including how he got into that line of work and how he lives with himself.

God, Bill doesn’t know how the fuck to feel. He ran away from his father because he knocked them around a few times, yet he feels safer with a literal murderer. Even Bill is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that the man he lives with, shares a bed with, for all intents and purposes has had sex with, is a serial killer. If it’s so hard for Bill to deal with, why isn’t Robert breaking down in front of him?

When it becomes clear that Bill has no clue what to say, Robert jumps in. The warmth of Robert’s hand against his back, rubbing in small, comforting circles, startles him at first.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” He volunteers. “I know, after yesterday, you’re going to be a lot more apprehensive. But Billy, I can promise you, what happened yesterday will never happen again. It should never have happened in the first place, and I’m sorry that you were involved. I promise, you and Georgie are completely safe here.”

Bill hunches his shoulders, wishing he could make himself smaller still until he just blips out of existence altogether. The weight of his responsibility is so crushing, he feels like he could die.

“Why’d you p-p-pick us up anyway?” Bill’s voice is barely a whisper. “When you s-saw us on the road that night. You just… offered us a h-home, right away. That’s f-fucking weird. Why’d you d-do that? You said you wanted to sleep with me, b-but then you never do. You act like you don’t even want to!”

Robert’s hand stills. When he next speaks he’s so close that his breath ghosts over the spot behind Bill’s ear, leaves him shivering and wishing he was stronger.

“You know, I used to have a brother.” Robert says, sounding very different from just seconds ago. He sounds faraway, distant, like he’s so untethered to the present reality that a weak gust of wind could blow him away. 

“You remind me of him. You both do.” Robert continues. Bill has no clue what to say to this, nor what relevance it has to the question he’d asked, but it feels like something important has passed between them. It feels, Bill realises, like a barrier has been broken down and now he can start getting to the root of the problem, whatever the problem is.

Everything has changed, and nothing has changed.

“I need you to p-promise me,” Bill whispers, voice thick with tears, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Promise me that G-Georgie is safe here. I came here to g-get him away from d-danger, but…”

He doesn’t know how to finish that statement, so he doesn’t bother trying. Robert’s fingers tuck under Bill’s chin and his thumb strokes over his cheekbone, soft and gentle. Bill closes his eyes and allows himself to sag, a puppet with the strings cut, into Robert’s arms. His face is buried in Robert’s chest as a warm hand, fingers spread wide, rubs up and down the curve of his spine.

“If you want,” Robert says. “I can take you and Georgie wherever you want. You don’t have to stay, Billy, I won’t keep you here. But if you do want to stay– I promise you, I will keep both of you safe. Nothing like this will ever happen again.” 

Bill is so, so weak. He brings his arms up to wrap around Robert’s neck even as he cries into the man's chest. Robert tilts his chin up and kisses him softly on the mouth, once, twice, and the third is wetter, dirtier. Bill is making out with the man who murdered somebody in the same kitchen that he last saw their body.

He has the unstoppable urge to slide from his seat to the floor, to stay on his knees and suck Robert off until he loses some of the calm he’s maintained throughout this entire conversation. The longer they kiss, the more Bill wants to do it just for the hell of it. They’ve been here for weeks now and Bill has seen Robert kill more people than times he’s seen the man’s dick. 

Bill is going to hell for this– he must be, but it just feels so  _ good.  _ Kissing Robert feels good. Being away from his abusive, alcoholic father feels good. Not having to worry about where Georgie’s next meal is coming from feels good. Fuck, it even feels good to have Robert manoeuvre him however he wants: putting Bill where he wants him, where he should be.

A small cough from the doorway startles them both, and Bill pulls away with a flush on his cheeks that’s half embarrassment, half arousal. Georgie stands half in, half out of the room, toes curled against the floor like he’s feeling awkward and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Bill recognises the signs. He’d been hoping that he wouldn’t have to have this conversation with Georgie for a while yet, but by the looks of things he’s going to have to explain the nature of his relationship with Robert.

Not all of it, of course. He thinks it would be a bit too complicated to say that Robert invited them to live with him on the basis that Bill and Robert would have regular sex. It would be even more confusing to then explain how they’ve only ever gotten to second base, and how Bill  _ wishes _ they would go further.

Wished, wishes, he doesn’t know anymore. Things feel monumentally different now, but at the same time Bill feels like nothing has really changed. He’s still blindly trusting Robert, still wants to sleep with Robert, despite the truth that has been revealed. Is something wrong with Bill?

These questions have to wait, he decides, until Georgie isn’t within earshot. Bill pats the stool he’d just been sitting on as he moves quickly towards the oven, wiping his eyes surreptitiously. The ingredients for the pancakes are left abandoned on the counter, butter melting into the wrapping; he’d been hoping to have them finished before Georgie even woke up, but maybe that was just so that he wouldn’t have to explain things.

“Are you okay?” Robert asks. Bill looks up instinctively, ready to tell him off for continuing their conversation in front of Georgie, but stops when he realises Robert wasn’t actually speaking to him. His eyes are trained on Georgie, and the way he hunches his shoulders and bites his nail.

“Don’t do that,” Bill murmurs distractedly, pouring the first mixture into the frying pan and watching it solidify. Georgie doesn’t take much notice of him.

“Uh huh,” Georgie replies, looking between the two of them again. Bill can feel himself blushing. He pokes the pancake aggressively with a spatula and hopes for the best. “I slept well. Your bed is big enough for the three of us.”

Robert laughs, amused, though how he can be after everything that happened yesterday Bill doesn’t know. Is it better that way, to continue like everything is normal? Or is it  _ necessary? _

“I guess so,” Robert says. “But then you’re only tiny, aren’t you?”

“I’m still growing!” Georgie complains, momentarily distracted from his aim. Bill has half a mind to congratulate Robert for shaking Georgie off so smoothly but he doesn’t even know if it was deliberate or not.

There’s a pause then that’s only interrupted by the sizzling of the batter in the frying pan and the occasional clink of metal as Bill drags up a plate. He can feel eyes on him, watching him, but he doesn't know if it’s Georgie or Robert. Maybe both.

“Are you and Billy gonna get married?” Georgie says, out of fucking  _ nowhere,  _ and Bill chokes on air. The pancake starts to burn at the edges as he spins around to face them.

“Georgie!” He scolds, feeling mortified. It’s one thing to think these things privately, Bill thinks, and another entirely to have someone else express your most embarrassing thoughts to the world.

Robert seems amused more than anything else, though, so Bill swallows down his embarrassment and tries not to make a big deal of it. Georgie has that look on his face - curiosity and satisfaction together - that tells Bill he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Why, can you picture him in a wedding dress?” Robert asks, tilting his head and looking Bill up and down as though he’s imagining it. Bill flushes, and finds himself more determined than ever to stay sane in this situation.

“Only if I can be bridesmaid.” Georgie says. Bill wonders how much he knows of last night; a gunshot is fairly distinctive and Bill still has bruises all over his body, but the natural conclusion for a six year old, surely, would not be to assume that the person you’re living with is a murderer.

_ “Stop.”  _ Bill whirls around suddenly, spurred on by the memories of last night. “Jesus! Nobody is m-marrying anybody. Okay?” He wants to be deadly serious, to show that this isn’t funny and he isn’t joking. Only, when he gestures with the spatula in his hand, a drop of pancake batter flies through the air and lands on Robert’s cheek.

Bill watches in mortified silence as it drips down Robert’s face. Robert blinks, reaches up to wipe it away with his fingertip and frowns comically at Bill. Georgie bursts into laughter.

There’s something about the absurdity of the situation that has Bill cracking a reluctant smile as well. Here he is, sitting in the same kitchen he was almost killed in, spraying pancake batter all over his murderer of a housemate. This is not what he imagined happening after he left his father’s care.

Robert sighs and shakes his head fondly before pushing his chair back from the table. He circles the counter slowly, deliberately, heading for the exit; before he gets there, he pauses in front of Bill, close enough that Bill can feel the warmth from his body.

“Just so you know,” he whispers, barely audible. “I do want to sleep with you. Very much.”

Then he leaves.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’ve missed Christmas by... a few days but hey enjoy this chapter that has no plot progression at all! :D
> 
> I hope you all had a great New Years! <3

Bill doesn’t even realise how close to Christmas it is until Georgie, sneaking up to him and tugging on his sleeve in the way he always does when he wants something, points out the date. The only good Christmases Bill has ever had were when he was able to spend time with the other Losers, and he didn’t get to do that often because it meant leaving Georgie alone with their father.

For Georgie, though, the magic hasn’t yet worn off. He’s still excited about Christmas in the same way he always has been, with an innocent, wide eyed charm that’s so infectious Bill can’t help feeling a little hyped as well. He doesn’t have any money to buy gifts with, but maybe if he asks nicely Robert will bring home the ingredients for a traditional Christmas dinner. Bill tried for a few years to make a nice meal for Georgie and his father, but after the disastrous state it left the kitchen in and the beating he received from his dad as a result, he decided never to do it again. Now, with Robert being the generous benefactor he’s turned out to be, Bill thinks he could pull it off.

Bill doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that he’s gradually become Robert’s housewife. He can see it happening, can see the slow spiral they’ve made into domesticity, but Robert is kind and well off and doesn’t hit them for getting on his nerves. Is it bad that Bill doesn’t mind? That he wants to stay?

He goes to find Robert after his shower, whilst his hair is still damp and his t-shirt is sticking to his body. If he’s putting on a show for Robert - assuming the man wants him at all - then maybe he’ll be more likely to get what he wants. Maybe also there’s a part of him that wants to get into Robert’s pants. Whatever, Bill’s allowed to dream.

“Hi,” He says softly, knocking on the door to Robert’s office. It’s half open already, as it usually is whenever Robert wants them to know he doesn’t mind being disturbed. Robert swivels in his chair and minimises whatever was on his computer screen before Bill can see. His shirt is tucked into his slacks and his hair is tousled in an unbearably sexy way that makes Bill want to untuck his shirt and run his fingers through Robert’s hair.

“Bill,” Robert greets him, tone friendly. Bill bites his bottom lip and wraps an arm around his middle protectively, unused to being scrutinised so carefully. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of c-course.” He says, wincing. Way to make it obvious. With his father, if he’d dared to ask for anything he’d face a beating. “Um. I just…”

Robert stands up and approaches him slowly, as though giving Bill time to back away if he wants. He doesn’t. Robert curls one hand around Bill’s waist and uses the other to cup the back of Bill’s neck, thumb rubbing circles into the skin there. It still feels so strange, so foreign, to be touched like this. 

“Deep breath,” Robert murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “Try again.”

“I was just w-w-wondering,” at Robert’s encouraging hum, Bill powers on. “‘Cause, like, it’s Christmas s-soon, and– and m-maybe next time you go out, you could g-get stuff for a Christmas meal? I’d cook it! You w-wouldn’t have to do anything, I p-promise–”

His speech is so fractured that Bill wonders how Robert can understand him at all. His cheeks flush with warmth and he resists the urge to bury his face in Robert’s neck. When he looks up hesitantly, Robert is smiling.

“Of course,” He says softly. “You don’t have to be nervous to ask. I’ll give you anything, Billy.”

Bill is too breathless to reply. It’s mesmerising, looking into Robert’s eyes and hearing that this man in front of him - who is so dangerous, has killed people and will probably kill many more - would do anything for him. It’s heady and delicious, it makes Bill want to sink to his knees and show Robert how grateful he is.

“You could come with me, if you wanted?” Robert asks, moving his hand to rub a thumb over Bill’s bottom lip. For some reason, Bill’s heart skips a beat; he hasn’t been outside to civilisation in so long and he’s worried he might be suffering from cabin fever. The thought of going to the grocery store - as boring as that may be - thrills him. But then–

“I couldn’t leave Georgie,” he tells Robert regretfully. He really couldn’t, not after everything that happened in this house, and bringing an excitable six year old with a broken arm to the grocery store at Christmas is definitely not the best idea. As much as he would like to enjoy the sweet domesticity of food shopping with Robert, he can’t.

“I understand.” Robert tells him, not angry or disappointed at all. He bends slightly so plant a soft, open mouthed kiss on the side of Bill’s throat, and then another, and another, until he’s trailing his lips towards Bill’s collarbone. “By the way,” he murmurs in between kisses. “I made an appointment for Georgie to have his cast off.” Another brush of lips. Bill’s goes curl. “In a week’s time.”

“Oh,” Bill pants, brain scrambled. He can barely remember what Robert is talking about. Cast? Week’s time? Sure, whatever. He tilts his head as an invitation for Robert to do more, but he doesn’t take it. He just continues to place maddeningly soft kisses all along Bill’s neck, until he’s shivering and hard in his pants.

“Robert,” He gasps, hands clenching at his sides. He remembers the last time he tried to touch Robert like this– he doesn’t want it to end so soon, so he keeps his arms at his sides and waits to see what Robert will do.

“Love the way you say my name,” Robert tells him hungrily, his teeth grazing sharply over Bill’s skin. Suddenly Robert is walking him backwards and Bill is going along with him until his back hits the wall. With Robert pressed up tightly against his front and the wall a solid weight behind him, Bill’s knees buckle and he lets Robert hold him upright.

Bill’s hands fly to Robert’s body of their own accord. One tangles in the hair at the back of Robert’s head whilst the other scrabbles for purchase at his shoulder. Bill desperately needs something to hold onto or he’s going to faint.

“Are you religious?” Robert asks suddenly, taking Bill off guard with how unrelated it is. If ever there was an inappropriate time for Bill to be thinking about God, it’s with Robert pressed up against his body and Bill’s boner jabbing into Robert’s hip.

“W-What?” He breathes, brain too muddled to understand.

“Is that why you want to celebrate Christmas?” Robert continues. His hand slides down Bill’s body to settle over his cock through his clothing, thumb rubbing over the wet spot at the head. Bill almost laughs. If he was religious, now would certainly not be the best time to profess his faith.

“Not really,” Bill says, shivering. “But Georgie… Christmas, y’know?”

Robert probably doesn’t know because that sentence didn’t make a lot of sense, but he doesn’t ask for clarification so Bill figures it’s not too important right now. Instead, Robert’s hand slips inside Bill’s underwear and wraps around his cock, working it up to full hardness.

Bill is relieved the door shut swung behind them when Robert pushed him back, but the prospect of getting caught doesn’t properly occur to Bill until he lets out a long, keening moan and Robert slaps a hand over his mouth. Bill’s eyes flutter open and his cock spits out precome.

“Careful,” Robert hisses, not removing his hand. “Don’t be too loud.”

The thought of traumatising Georgie like that is almost a boner killer, but then Robert pries his lips apart and forces his fingers inside, and for some reason that’s enough to get Bill going again.

Bill is getting better at lasting since he’s moved in with Robert. Whilst Robert has only touched him a few times so far, Bill has been jerking off a hell of a lot more since he’s had something so real and tangible in his fantasies. Even so, every time Robert’s fingertips drag over his skin it sends a shiver down his spine and he arches into it. He tries not to bite Robert’s fingers by accident.

“I can do that,” Robert repeats, confusing Bill. His head is too cloudy to know what the hell Robert is talking about right now. Then he remembers his request. 

“Thank you,” his breath hitches and heat pools low in his belly, warm and spreading from his fingertips to the tip of his cock. Bill comes in Robert’s hand, moaning around his fingers as he shakes with pleasure. He’s left boneless, catching his breath and desperate to reciprocate.

“Let me– c-can I?” His palm settles over the line of Robert’s dick in his trousers, but before Bill can really do anything Robert is catching his wrist and tugging it away gently.

“Not yet,” he whispers against Bill’s neck, warm breath making him shiver. “Soon. I want you to be ready.”

“I  _ am _ ready.” Bill complains, even though he doesn’t know what Robert means by that and he doesn’t know if he is. He just  _ wants. _

“No,” Robert tells him, whispers it assuredly into his ear leaving no room for argument. “You’re not. But you will be. Soon.”

It sounds like a promise.

***

It turns out that cooking a Christmas dinner is a lot harder than Bill remembers. He’s halfway through peeling a mountain of potatoes, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and slowly losing the will to live, before he thinks maybe he overestimated his abilities.

Worse, five minutes after tentatively asking Robert to help, he’s discovered that the man is spectacularly shit at preparing food.

“You know,” Robert mutters unhappily, a little breathless with exertion. “I could have just hired somebody to do all of this for us.”

Robert is in the middle of mashing a pan full of potatoes, a job which Bill had thought might be good for curing his potential aggression. It turns out that Robert does not enjoy it, and whilst he might not have had any anger to take out before he started, he definitely does now. Bill hides a tiny, amused smile.

“Then it wouldn’t be authentic!” Bill argues, surprising himself in his defence of Christmas authenticity. He wants this day to be as perfect as it possibly can be. He’d even gone so far as to wake up hours before he usually does just to get a headstart on cooking, so it can all be mostly ready before Georgie wakes up. It’ll be Georgie’s first stress free Christmas and Bill wants to make that special for him.

Robert does as well, it seems, but he doesn’t like the process Bill has chosen to go down. Last night, Bill had watched as Robert hauled in a rucksack full of gifts for Georgie, and had helped him wrap them all up and arrange them nicely under the tree. He hasn’t just accepted Bill’s request, he’s gone all out to make Georgie’s first proper Christmas a success, and Bill loves him a little bit for it. He almost considers letting him off the hook in the kitchen, but he’s enjoying the company too much. Secretly, he thinks Robert is too.

“He wouldn’t know the difference.” Robert grumbles, rolling his sleeves up. Bill’s eyes linger on Robert’s biceps but he looks away in a hurry when Robert catches him watching.

“But we would know,” Bill tells him sombrely. “In our hearts. It’ll taste better this way.”

“It fucking better,” Bill doesn’t think Robert would appreciate being laughed at very much so he swallows past the urge to snicker. Bill wonders if Robert has ever had to cook before, or if it’s all been done for him his whole life. No housemaid has been around in the couple months Bill has been staying there, but he just can’t imagine Robert hunched over a stove making pasta. The thought makes him smile, nonetheless.

“Who knows,” Bill shrugs, smug. “Maybe we can do this all again for New Year’s Eve?”

The smile on Robert’s face dims a little. Bill’s heart sinks, and he knows what’s coming before Robert even opens his mouth.

“I have a business meeting in New York in a few days time. I’ll be gone over New Years. I’m sorry.” He really does sound apologetic, by Robert’s standards. Bill tries to ignore the clenching, crushing feeling in his chest. 

_ Ignore it,  _ Bill thinks, a mantra that runs through his head.  _ Ignore it, pretend you have no clue.  _

“A business meeting.” Bill repeats, monotone. He can see Robert watching him out of the corner of his eye but he doesn’t want to turn around, to expose himself to that penetrating stare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to spoil your day.” Robert explains without hesitation. “I was going to tell you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well,” Bill says, before his throat closes up. “Be safe. New York is a dangerous city.” That's as much as he can acknowledge. Robert nods as though it means a lot to him.

There’s a thundering sound from above at that moment and the conversation is dropped, tension forgotten as Georgie hurtles down the stairs, a tiny ball of excited energy. He barrels right into Bill and squeezes Bill’s middle in a tight hug.

“It’s Christmas!” He exclaims. Bill makes eye contact with Robert over Georgie’s head. He’s watching them both with a fond expression, and when he notices Bill looking, he smiles.

Bill thinks maybe he can forgive him, this once, if he just tries to forget.

“Yeah,” he replies. “It is.”

***

All in all, Bill thinks the evening is a success. He sits with Georgie on the floor of the living room as he rips at the wrapping paper around his gifts. He loves everything Robert bought for him, of course, and Bill revels in the inexplicable pride he feels when Georgie throws his arms around Robert’s neck in a hug. 

_ I did this,  _ he thinks, watching the two interact.  _ This was me. I made this family. _

He misses the Losers, of course. He wishes desperately that he had a phone he could use to contact them with, that he could just text them at the very least and wish them a merry Christmas. They’ll hate him, he knows, for worrying them for so long, for making them think he was dead.

The worry is washed away, however, when Robert hands Bill a present, shabbily wrapped with a bow half falling off. Bill unwraps it with trembling excitement, suddenly overcome with emotion, to find a sleek, shiny laptop. He’s speechless for a few seconds before he too is throwing himself into Robert’s arms, not quite sure how to express his gratitude. There are so many things he could offer to do - after Georgie has gone to bed, of course - but in the end he just kisses Robert, soft and sweet, exactly like he wants to.

Robert has given him so much: a new life, a fresh start, and now the ability to connect with his old friends without Bill even needing to ask. He’s a good person, Bill thinks, despite everything, so Bill will just have to fucking deal with his ‘business meetings’ every once in a while.

It’s a small price to pay. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I’ve been writing a bunch of oneshots lately but I will never forget about this fic! 
> 
> Also, Robert is not exactly, like, a good guy in this but. I don’t know? Enjoy? :D

After Robert leaves, Bill discovers that his new laptop is mostly disabled. The ‘mostly’ applies because Bill doesn’t at all understand technology, especially technology as advanced as this, and it seems like Robert has implemented some sort of software on it that stops him from accessing… pretty much anything. 

Well, maybe that’s a little unfair. Bill can access certain applications that Robert must have downloaded earlier: he can finally type his stories instead of writing them manually, he can rifle through Robert’s small collection of DVDs and play them through his laptop. When it comes to the internet, however, the only person Bill can talk to is Robert.

He tries to email Beverly first. She’s the only person Bill knows he could rely on to keep anything he said a secret from the other Losers. He wants to apologise for running away without an explanation, for making them think he’s dead in a ditch somewhere. He just… misses them, and he wants to talk to his friends again. But the only person Bill is able to message is Robert. The laptop comes prepared with one contact already saved, and when Bill types in Beverly’s email address the screen pops up with an error message that explains how his access has been restricted.

This would not normally be a problem. Maybe it should ring some alarm bells; Bill is sure it isn’t normal for Robert to prevent him from talking to his friends, but this isn’t exactly a normal situation they’re in. He’s willing to give Robert the benefit of the doubt until he gets back.

If only Bill had any clue of when that would be.

It wouldn’t be so bad, even, if Bill wasn’t totally alone in the house now. It seems that Robert has made good on finding a school for Georgie to attend - with a different last name, Bill can only presume - so Bill is alone in Robert’s enormous mansion for a solid six hours every day. He really isn’t used to having nothing to do all day, but after cleaning the kitchen, the virtually unused sitting room, Georgie’s room, Robert’s bedroom and  _ three _ bathrooms, there’s literally nothing else to do.

Bill is fucking  _ bored,  _ and this time he’s lonely too.

A few days after Robert has left, Bill finds him staring at the only message in their chat log so far. He still doesn’t know whether or not he was meant to reply and now, looking at it and missing Robert as viscerally as he does, he wishes he had.

Robert:  _ There’s a false bottom to the second draw down in my office. There’s a gun inside. Only go in there if necessary. Contact me here for any reason - I’ll always be available for you. Be back soon. _

Bill sighs, finger moving across the pad on the laptop idly. He has no idea what Robert is doing right now or even where he is, but he did say ‘for any reason’. Being bored totally qualifies as an acceptable reason, right?

Or will Robert just get irritated that Bill is being an annoying, clingy teenager? He’s never even had a relationship before, let alone been in a full on domestic situation like this, so he doesn’t really understand the etiquette of messaging. If it were Richie or Stan or any one of the Losers, he wouldn’t feel panicked about bombarding them with fifty spam messages until they replied.

But he can’t message his friends, not even to ask their advice. He can only message Robert, and he really doesn’t know if he should. Christ,  _ Georgie _ would probably have a clearer idea of the situation than Bill, and even he isn’t here right now.

Swallowing down his reservations, Bill types a response and sends it before he can change his mind.

Bill:  _ never used a gun, idrk how. what’s with the restriction things on the laptop btw? not complaining! just curious x _

He adds a kiss because he doesn’t want Robert to think he’s upset or angry. He doesn’t want to give him any reason to get annoyed with Bill.

Bill settles back in bed - Robert’s side of the bed, pathetically enough, because it smells like him - and turns his attention back to the TV playing some shitty Christmas movie at a low volume. He’s expecting to have to wait a good hour or so before he gets a response, but to his surprise the laptop pings with a new message within five minutes. He hurries to open up the screen again as his eyes scan the words. 

Robert:  _ I’ll teach you when I get back. Until then: point and shoot. And sorry about the restrictions, I should have told you before I left. It won’t be forever, but for now it’s safer. No one can track you this way. How are you? _

Bill grins. A warm, nostalgic feeling settles low in his belly– this is how he used to feel as a kid, chatting with whoever he had a week long crush on at the time. Obviously Robert is different - he’s a murderer for a start, and Bill doesn’t think you can call it a crush if you’ve had the guy’s hand on your dick already - but Bill still gets the same giddy excitement that he used to whenever he sees Robert is typing again.

Bill:  _ can’t wait until you get back. been boring as fuck here. I’m glad georgie is getting an education and all but some company would be nice lol. how is the job, any idea when you’ll be back? _

As he types it out, he realised how true it is. He hadn’t noticed how accustomed he’s been getting to just having Robert around, but now that he’s not here, Bill wants nothing more than to just crawl into his lap in bed or lie next to each other to get to sleep. It isn’t even like they did a lot of that whilst Robert was around- especially not with Robert’s weird dedication to keeping Bill’s virginity - but the bed feels extra cold now there’s a big empty spot in it.

He wants Robert back home. 

Robert:  _ I’ll be back soon. Sorry about the big, boring house. Are you alone now? _

Bill notices how Robert deliberately avoids his question about the job, but he’s finding it a little difficult to care about that when Robert is asking him  _ if he’s alone.  _ If he had asked whether Georgie was at school then that would be a different matter, but as it stands, the words just sound... intentional. Arousing. Bill swallows, his mouth suddenly dry as he hurries to reply. He’s eager to see where this will go. Maybe Robert will be less reluctant about doing things if they can’t actually touch each other. 

On the other hand, Bill’s experience with dirty talk is limited to non existent. Why does everything have a catch?

Bill:  _ yeah I’m alone… why do you ask? _

Robert:  _ How far have you gone with another person? _

Robert’s question is so unexpected that Bill coughs and splutters, cheeks burning with twin spots of colour. How is he supposed to remain calm enough to reciprocate throughout this? 

He thinks for a long time about what he wants to say. Bill doesn’t want Robert to think he’s frigid, a prude, a little kid who’s in way over his head with Robert. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want Robert thinking he’s easy for what he  _ has _ done. Bill isn’t afraid of sex, exactly - or maybe he is, maybe he’s afraid of the intimacy, or the vulnerability - but he doesn’t want Robert to get the wrong idea. Whatever the wrong idea is. 

Bill:  _ like I’ve kissed other people? mostly girls but a few guys as well _

Bill:  _ and I’ve jerked some guys off before  _

There. That’s an acceptable response, right? It’s normal for someone Bill’s age to have done some stuff, but not a whole lot. Even so, Bill chews anxiously on his fingernails as he waits for a response, not knowing how Robert is going to react.

Robert:  _ Has anyone ever put your cock in their mouth before? _

Bill inhales sharply. Almost subconsciously, his hand slips inside his underwear and settles over his cock, soft but slowly growing harder as he rereads Robert’s message and grinds the heel of his palm down against it. He bites his lip, wishing Robert were here with him. It would be comforting to have his weight and warmth pressed up against Bill’s back.

Plus, whenever Robert jerks Bill off now he always does it with one hand curled around his hip possessively, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. The memory has Bill’s head falling back against the headboard as he sighs, rubbing his thumb through the wetness at the head of his cock.

Bill:  _ ohmygod no that’s never happened before _

Robert:  _ I can’t wait to get back. I can’t wait to get my hands on you again. _

And then, before Bill can even begin to think of an acceptable reply to that, another message appears on the screen, almost accusatory in its directness.

Robert:  _ Are you touching yourself right now, Billy? _

Bill’s cheeks flush pink with warmth and he pressed his face against the cool cotton of Robert’s pillowcase just to calm down. Is Robert going to think he’s a creep now? But then, what did he expect when he started talking to a teenage virgin like that?

Bill:  _ i’m sorry, I can stop if it’s weird _

As much as Bill fucking hopes Robert doesn’t want him to stop, he knows he will if Robert tells him to. He’s so desperate for conversation,  _ for touch– _

He’s so desperate for  _ conversation _ that he’d do anything Robert asked of him. His mind flashes back to the memory of Robert in his office facing Bill down, saying ‘I’d do anything for you, Billy’, and his eyes burn with tears. God, he wishes Robert was here.

Robert:  _ It’s not weird, Billy. I want you to make yourself come. _

Fuck, Bill is gonna come if Robert keeps sending messages like that. He feels strange, like he’s hovering somewhere outside of his body, tethered to Robert more than himself, and every indication that he’s doing something to please Robert gets him a little floatier, a little more dazed. He fucks his hips up into his first, blessedly grateful for the empty house for once.

With his one free hand, Bill writes out a reply before he loses the ability to type altogether.

Bill:  _ i can’t wait until you get back I want you inside me so bad fuck _

Bill comes with a sharp cry, his whole body going tight and tense as a tightrope. He wipes his fingers off on his t-shirt once he’s come down from his orgasm a little, because as gross as it is he figures he shouldn’t let Robert get home to a come-stained bed. Then he reads back over their chat log and wants the earth to swallow him whole. Why does he always say the most embarrassing things when he’s about to come?

Bill:  _ that was weird I’m so sorry _

He restrains himself from sending anything else, because he doesn’t need to embarrass himself any further. Now Robert is going to be overly aware of how self conscious and needy Bill is, and that’s definitely going to be a turn off. He’s such a fuck up sometimes. Sometimes he thinks the only thing he’s good at is being an older brother, and often not even that. It’s his fault Georgie’s arm got broken, after all– he should have gotten them out long before things got so bad.

But then Robert replies, and Bill holds his breath as he reads.

Robert:  _ Again, not weird. I’ll be home soon, Billy.  _

Robert goes offline almost immediately after that and Bill is left staring at his own reflection in the screen of his laptop. That empty feeling creeps back into his chest and wraps itself tight like a coil around his heart, squeezing whenever he thinks of spending another night alone in this house.

He doesn’t know what to make of Robert’s last message, but Bill hopes he come home soon, preferably before he loses his mind.

***

Bill wakes up confused, heart racing uncomfortably quickly. He’s aware that there was a noise that woke him up, but in his bleary, half-awake state, he has no idea what it was.

At first, he thinks it must have been Georgie. Ever since his cast got taken off he’s been even more excitable than ever, chasing Bill around the house and being far too energetic for the morning. Then Bill remembers that it’s a weekday and Georgie will be at school right now. He’s taken to having naps at random times of the day, just to pass a few meaningless hours.

That’s when Bill really starts to panic, because if not Georgie, who the fuck was that? He thinks suddenly of the gun in Robert’s desk drawer and wishes he hadn’t been so dismissive of it– how quickly could he reach Robert’s office if there was an intruder making their way through the house already? Probably not quickly enough. Knowing his luck, Bill would be killed before he even made it down the stairs.

He holds his breath as he listens for another tell tale sound. Everything is silent for a long time, long enough that Bill starts to wonder if his fatally bored mind has started playing tricks on him. Then the noise comes again and searing panic skyrockets inside Bill’s chest. What the fuck?

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and glances around for anything he could use as a weapon. All he can see that might be remotely damaging is the handle of a bedside lamp, and Bill doesn’t think he can hit hard enough to knock someone out using that. 

He takes small, sneaking steps towards the landing and peers over the bannister, careful not to creak the floorboards. There’s definitely a shadow moving around on the lower floor but Bill can’t get a good enough look at them to see how threatening they are. After all, it isn’t like he could call the police. He could message Robert though, maybe he would sort something quick and simple out…

Then the shadowy figure downstairs drops a heavy briefcase to the floor with a loud  _ clunking  _ sound, and Bill’s breath catches in his throat. It’s about goddamn time.

Bill hurls himself down the stairs at a breakneck speed, flinging himself around the corner and into Robert’s arms. Robert clearly isn’t expecting it and he wobbles precariously on the spot for a moment before he steadies himself; Bill worries that Robert will be upset with him– for that, for something else, for the many things Bill has probably done wrong. But then Robert’s face breaks into a smile so fond and comforting that the skin around his eyes crinkles and all his perfect teeth are showing. Bill buries his face against Robert’s neck, fighting the inexplicable urge to cry.

“I m-missed you.” He whines, only realising then the true extent of his words. He didn’t miss Robert like he misses Georgie when he goes to school. He didn’t miss Robert like he misses his friends, with a sharp pain in his chest whenever he thinks of how he let them down. He missed Robert like how he misses his mother sometimes: an all consuming feeling, like a part of himself has been taken away. 

It’s terrifying, how quickly and how intensely he has found himself relying on Robert just to get him through the day, but when Robert’s hand comes up to stroke over the curve of his spine, Bill knows he wouldn’t change it for anything.

“Easy, Billy. I missed you too. What’s wrong?” Bill pulls back in time to realise he’s crying, and now Robert can see it too. A tear drips off the tip of his nose and Robert touches two fingers gently to his chin, tilting his head upwards and kissing the tear tracks away. 

“Nothing,” he denies, shoulders jerking upwards in short spasms, unable to hold himself together even for appearances sake. “Just…”

His hands come up to scrabble at Robert’s shoulders and then slide down, over his defined chest to brush under the hem of his hoodie. His skin is warm to the touch and Bill wants him so badly, wants to just feel his presence and know that he isn’t alone.

“Just p-please. Take me to b-bed?” It takes a monumental effort to get the words out. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for– it isn’t like Robert has jumped at the opportunity to be touched by Bill in the past, but he’s hoping that now, after a few days apart, things will have changed.

  
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Billy?” Robert sounds cautious, not quite reluctant but not quite eager either. There’s something else underlying his words as well, something that Bill wouldn’t be able to describe but can only think of as self satisfied. 

But Bill can’t bring himself to care anymore. He’s desperate, and at this point he will do anything to just be held again.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against Robert’s sharp jawline as Robert stands still and impassive. He punctuates each brief sentence with another kiss, ducking his head to mouth down Robert’s neck. “I don’t care about w-what you do. I really don’t, R-Robert, not anymore. Please, p-please, I just need you. I want you so much, want you to b-be my first. Please?”

Robert inhales, sharp and quick, not quite a gasp of surprise. His hand, previously hanging limp by his side, shoots up to grab Bill’s face, his fingers digging into Bill’s cheeks.

“Say it again,” he says, voice low and dangerous. Bill shudders, terrifies and turned on. “Bill, say it again.  _ Please.” _

“I don’t care,” Bill whispers. Another tear cuts a path down his cheek and Robert licks it up with the tip of his tongue. “Your job doesn’t m-matter to me. Just, please–”

Robert silences him with a kiss, passionate and dirty. It’s been too long since they’ve even touched each other and it feels like all the pent up tension of the last few days is being released just by him standing here and taking it, letting himself get tongue fucked by Robert. He walks Bill backwards until he almost trips over the first step.

“Upstairs,” Robert breathes, taking a break from stealing Bill’s oxygen to sucking a reddening bruise into Bill’s throat. “Now.”

Bill’s stomach churns with anxious excitement. Are they really about to have sex? It feels like a lifetime since Robert picked them up in his car on the basis of having regular sex with Bill as compensation. Where did that deal go? Is this what Robert has been waiting for this entire time: for Bill to break down, to abandon his morals?

To become solely dependent on him?

The thought feels nefarious, as though Robert has been manipulating Bill this entire time when Bill  _ knows  _ that isn’t true. This was his choice, it was his decision to ignore Robert’s job, to put it to one side and pretend he can’t see it if it means he gets to keep Robert’s attention and care. That was his choice.

_ Was it?  _

Robert kisses him again, and the thought evaporates like a bad dream. All he can do is pant needily as Robert pushes him down onto the bed and straddles his hips, working on tearing Bill’s t-shirt off. Once he’s bare chested, Robert holds Bill’s wrists above his head with one hand, keeping him secure in place. Bill’s dick hardens in his pants– this is the closest he’s ever gotten to having actual, real sex and he feels almost sick with nervous anticipation.

Bill thinks back on the conversation they had a few days earlier. Robert knows the situation he’s in, and he won’t pressure for more than Bill is ready for. Bill’s sure of it.

As though reading his mind, Robert bends low to trace the lobe of Bill’s ear with the tip of his tongue and says, “Don’t worry, Billy. I’ll be gentle.”

Bill’s eyes flutter closed and his hips jerk upwards, desperate for pressure as Robert’s words burn a hole behind his eyelids.  _ I’ll be gentle, I’ll be gentle, I’ll be gentle.  _ God, he needs to come but he wants Robert inside him even more than that. 

He only has a moment to be embarrassed that he didn’t make the bed ready for Robert’s return before Robert is distracting him, pressing his tongue flat to Bill’s skin just above his waistband and licking a straight line up. He kisses the dip of Bill’s sternum and scrapes his teeth sharply against the skin.

“I’m going to get my fingers in you first,” Robert tells him, licking over Bill’s nipple and making him moan, high pitched and whiny. “Then I’m going to fuck you. How does that sound?”

God, how can he still be so coherent through all of this? Bill nods desperately and clings to Robert’s shirt, trying to get his hands on some bare skin.

“Take it easy, Billy.” Robert grins, slanted and sharp. He shifts further down the bed and slides Bill’s trousers and underwear over his hip in one smooth, swift movement. Bill bites his lip to keep from making some vague noise of protest; he’s never been so thoroughly exposed before and, compared to Robert’s perfect body, he feels more than a little insecure.

But Robert just runs circles into Bill’s thighs as he spreads them gently, crawling in between and leaning down once more to kiss Bill’s mouth.

“Are you ready?” He asks, and shit, Bill must have missed Robert retrieving the small packet of lube because he’s holding it in his hand as suddenly everything is very real. This is really happening. Bill is really about to lose his virginity.

“Oh my god,” Bill breathes.

“Don’t freak out,” Robert laughs. It’s such a beautiful sound and Bill so rarely hears it. He hasn’t seen Robert for far too long and he wants everything all at once.

“I’m not f-freaking out,” Bill promises, even though he absolutely is. “I’m ready. Please, Robert.”

“Okay, Billy, alright.” The first press of Robert’s finger against his hole makes him jump, shocked by how cold it is. He hisses through his teeth and exhales shakily as Robert bites down on his neck. It’s just enough to distract himself as Robert slides two fingers inside him, skipping the first stage entirely.

Bill has fingered himself before, but he’d always found it ah unsatisfactory experience all in all. Robert’s fingers are longer and thicker than Bill’s, and whilst they sting for the first few lazy thrusts, the pain quickly turns to something a little warmer, a little more manageable.

“Fuck,” Bill groans, chest heaving with each heavy breath. His toes curl– Robert’s fingers feel so fucking good inside him, pressing tight up against a spot that has him shaking. It feels like he’s coming, like he’s teetering on the edge of an orgasm without even touching his dick. Bill knows what this is, but he’s never experienced it before now.

“Right there?” Robert asks, but it sounds more like a smug observation and less like a genuine question. 

“Yes, yeah.” Bill gasps, fingers grasping at the bedsheet. “Right there, oh my  _ god.” _

Robert doesn’t tell Bill when he adds another finger, just presses all three of them forward in a slow, tantalising thrust up to the second knuckle. Bill winces, unable to hide the pain on his face. Robert kisses the corner of his mouth, the edge of his jaw, takes Bill’s cock into his hand and strokes just quickly enough to have him hard again.

“You know what kept me going the whole time I was away?” He asks. His breath is coming a little quicker now, his cheeks more flushed. It’s a relief to know Bill isn’t the only one affected by this. “The thought of taking your virginity. The thought of being the first person to fuck you.”

Bill shudders when Robert pulls his fingers out and he feels the press of Robert’s cock against his hole, and– when had he gotten undressed? When Bill was moaning like a slut? His cheeks burn. It’s a sweet, teasing touch and it has tears gathering in the corners of Bill’s eyes.

“M’gonna fuck you now, Billy.” Robert tells him, in a voice Bill has only ever heard him use once before, when that man showed up on their doorstep. He sounds animalistic, dangerous, like he’s staking a claim. Bill’s cock drools precome.

Robert kisses Bill as he fucks him. Bill finds it hard enough to catch his breath as it is, but with Robert’s cock splitting him open it’s near impossible. He feels dizzy, like his head is spinning, and each thrust just gets him more and more out of it. All he can do is submit to Robert, to his wandering hands and his invasive tongue and the way his dick hits Bill’s prostate with every thrust. Bill is pretty sure he’s crying, but Robert just kisses him, licks up his tears, swallows up his sobs.

“You’re what I’ve been waiting for,” Robert is saying quietly, as though to himself. Bill can’t pay any attention to the words as the feeling of warmth and pressure grows in his belly. “All this time, it’s been you. I’m never letting you go. You’re mine Billy, you’re mine. Gonna fuck you till you know it.”

Bill lets out a sob that wracks his entire body as his cock shoots come between their moving bodies. Robert moves suddenly, uses one hand flat on the mattress next to Bill’s head to prop himself up whilst he lays the other one over Bill’s neck. 

“Wish I could put my babies inside you,” Robert is saying. If Bill was anywhere near coherent at this point he would probably think twice about this, would probably think it was weird or creepy, might question what the fuck Robert means by that. As it is, he just moans whorishly as Robert thrusts once, twice more, and then comes inside Bill’s body with a low, drawn out moan. He stills, removing his hand from Bill’s neck and brushing his knuckles down Bill’s cheek tenderly. 

Bill stares at Robert as he pulls out, carefully so as not to hurt him. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to curl up with Robert plastered to his back, arm draped heavily over his middle.

“Mine,” Robert hums, pressing feather light kisses to the back of Bill’s neck. His hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat and he has come leaking out of him because they didn’t use a stupid condom. He’s sore and gross and Georgie will be getting back in a few hours so they can’t even fall asleep, but none of that matters to Bill right now.

He’d told Robert that he didn’t care about the killing, and in this moment it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. Robert is back with him, in their bed, holding Bill in his arms again. His heart soars.

Bill thinks he’s in love.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody stop me from starting stuff before I finish other stuff D: 
> 
> We’re getting to the end, slowly but surely!

Now Robert and Bill have had sex, it’s like a dam has been broken. A brick wall has been knocked down between them and Bill feels like Robert is more in tune with how he’s feeling than ever. Georgie is in school for six hours five days a week now, and Robert has nowhere to be until his next job in a month’s time, so they have each other all to themselves, and Robert doesn’t let Bill out of his sight.

Bill loves it. He hadn’t been on his own for that long but it had felt like an eternity, and if Robert wasn’t acting as clingy as he is, Bill would probably be following him around the house like a lost puppy. It’s just such a relief, knowing that the person you want to spend every minute of the day with feels the same way as you. It’s like a rush of adrenaline– all Bill has to do is think of Robert holding him close as they sleep, tugging him back to bed when he tries to leave, marking his neck with dark, blossoming bruises like he wants everyone to know who Bill belongs to.

Because that’s another recent development as well, since Robert got back. They’ve been fucking _a_ _lot._

Bill had thought he’d been ready to explode before Robert had fucked him, but Robert must have been right there with him because the man is  _ insatiable  _ now. Yesterday, Bill woke up to Robert’s mouth around his cock, and it didn’t take long for Robert to get his fingers inside him, to have Bill’s toes curling and his mouth falling open as he came.

Today, Bill wakes up to the quiet rustle of bedsheets and Robert’s warmth at his back. He smiles and tries to hide it in arm, where it’s stretched out under his head. The bed is so soft and Robert is so hard for him even though Bill has messy hair and morning breath and he probably talks in his sleep.  _ Robert _ is hard for  _ him. _

That’s the thing Bill still can’t wrap his head around, still can’t figure out. Robert is gorgeous and experienced and clearly very rich, even though that is an effect of his highly illegal job. He could have anyone he wanted. He could get someone so much better than Bill, some no one who’s financially dependent on him and has enough baggage to last a lifetime. Bill never feels like more of a dumb virginal teenager than in these moments, waking up next to Robert’s warm body curled around his own, feeling the ache in his ass and the throb or bruises over his pulse. He has bruises everywhere now, his wrists and his neck and his inner thighs: little reminders that Bill can press on and smile and remember the night before with. 

As contrary as it sounds, Bill feels like he gets more inexperienced every time he and Robert have sex. 

“You awake, Billy?” Robert mumbles. His voice in the morning is always so low and hoarse and fucking sexy. Bill’s stomach swoops just from hearing it, but maybe that’s just the positive conditioning. He’s naked under the sheets and he starts to get hard, listening to Robert jerk off behind him, the panting breaths and the occasional brush of his knuckles against Bill’s bare ass. 

“Yeah,” Bill says, embarrassed when his voice breaks. He clears his throat and nods, pressing his face against the pillow. He wants Robert’s hands on him, wants something, he’ll take anything Robert wants to give him at this point. 

Robert’s hand settles on Bill’s hip and his fingers dig in a little. He places tiny, chaste kisses over Bill’s shoulders that, with his hand creeping down to grip his ass, feel anything but innocent. Bill shivers, an involuntary motion that has Robert chuckling darkly.

“You like that, Billy?” He asks. His fingers dip lower, slide between Bill’s cheeks and find his hole, still wet and open from the night before. He slips two inside easily and Bill moans when Robert presses against his sweet spot. All he can do is nod desperately as tears dampen his pillow and he fucks himself on Robert’s fingers. 

“Yeah?” Robert twists his wrist and fucks his fingers into Bill deeper, harder, responding to Bill’s silent plea for more. Bill’s cock throbs, precome spilling a sticky mess over his stomach. His fingers scrabble helplessly against the bed, creasing the duvet. He sobs and bites his bottom lip to try and hide the other noises Robert’s fucking out of him.

“P-Please,” Bill pants. He can feel his orgasm approaching rapidly and he just needs a little more, a little push and he’ll be  _ there,  _ it feels so fucking  _ good–  _

Robert stops. He removes his fingers as quickly as he’d put them in and Bill is left with the uncomfortable sensation of emptiness. His cock aches from how turned on he is despite the disappointing lack of contact it’s had and he feels dizzy and flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his tongue dry and swollen in his mouth. He wants some water or Robert’s lips on his or Robert’s dick in his mouth– he wants anything and he wants more and he wants it fucking  _ now. _

“What the f-fuck?” Bill whines, frustrated. He tries to grab onto Robert’s forearm when the man rolls him over onto his back, but Robert just laughs and holds his fingers to Bill’s lips - thankfully not the ones that have just been inside him. Bill parts his lips and circles his tongue around Robert’s fingertips.

“Patience, Billy.” Robert tells him, with a smile that screams ‘I’m going to enjoy this’. He forces his fingers a little deeper and Bill’s lips, red from his teeth digging in earlier, stretch to accommodate it. “You’re going to come with me inside you, but first I want to see what you look like with my cock in your mouth.”

Bill whimpers around Robert’s fingers. He’s never been so eager to wriggle out from under the comforting weight of Robert’s body before, but he does so now with an unnatural quickness. Robert, thankfully, doesn’t hinder him in any way and he scoots further down the bed so that Bill can kneel between his legs in an easier position. There’s still a slight strain on his neck, but the second Bill gets his fingers under the waistband of Robert’s underwear and his lips around the head of Robert’s cock, it’s forgotten.

Bill has never done this before, and while he’s watched porn and even had Robert suck him off once or twice, it hasn’t really prepared him all that much for being in the front seat. Realistically, he knows he’s supposed to suck, to use his tongue, to bob his head… but faced with it all at once, it seems impossible. He literally has Robert’s dick in his mouth and his cheeks are already burning red with the knowledge that he’s going to be  _ bad  _ at it.

“Hey,” Robert’s voice and the gentle stroke of his fingers against Bill’s cheek is enough to draw him out of the spiral of his panicked thoughts. “Easy, Billy, calm down. You’re doing so well, come back to me.”

Bill pulls off slowly, ashamed that he has to pause so soon and ashamed that Robert has to be the one to comfort him through this. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, hoping Robert won’t try to kiss him when Bill still has the taste of his cock on his tongue. “I’m s-sorry. I’ve never done that b-before.”

Robert sighs, but when Bill looks up anxiously he has a calm, affectionate look on his face so it doesn’t seem like he’s angry. Really, Bill should know better than to think he would be. He’s not the kind of person to get annoyed over Bill being inexperienced, that’s for sure.

“Bill, sweetheart, you don’t have to be amazing at everything straight away. I feel lucky to be able to see you figuring everything out.” They’re pretty words, and they do actually make Bill feel better so that’s something. They’re enough to have him shifting back down the bed again and pressing a chaste kiss to the head of Robert’s cock, enough to have him licking the flat of his tongue from root to tip hesitantly. Robert sighs, this time in what Bill hopes is pleasure, and he rests one hand lazily on the top of Bill’s head, fingers playing with the soft strands of hair. It’s not restricting or scary, but it is extra pressure that has Bill’s heart racing and his cock throbbing where it’s pressed into the mattress.

As he sinks further down onto Robert’s cock, Bill can’t help but grind his own dick against the bed, moving his hips in desperate little circles until he thinks he might come. He can tell the exact moment Robert notices because he tenses and his cock hardens further in Bill’s mouth. He can taste precome, salty and bitter against his tongue, but it’s accompanied by an undeniable sense of pride: pride that it was  _ him _ who managed to get Robert’s hips twitching and his chest rumbling with a low, pleased moan.

“That’s it, honey.” Robert sighs, fingers tightening in Bill’s hair and pulling ever so slightly as an instruction. “C’mon, come back here.”

Robert kisses him and Bill knows his tongue still tastes like Robert’s dick but they’re kissing anyway and Bill can’t help it when the first few tears start to fall. Robert pulls away slightly, just enough for him to wipe Bill’s tears away with the pad of his thumb, but it’s too far and not enough and Bill presses forward, welcomes the slide of Robert’s tongue against his own. 

“P-Please,” Bill whispers, overwhelmed with sensation as Robert rolls Bill carefully onto his back. 

“Yeah,” Robert breathing heavily is something Bill will never get over. He’s usually so calm, so collected, so put together, but every so often  _ Bill _ can turn him on. It’s heady. “Yeah, I know. I’ve got you.”

Robert strokes his hands up and down the soft inside of Bill’s thighs and spreads his legs, crawls in between them. He grips Bill’s face between his fingers and holds him steady as he pushes inside. Bill gasps, can’t help it– Robert isn’t small, and whilst he’s still a little sore from the night before, it still feels so fucking good to have Robert hard and hot inside him. Robert is good at this, knows exactly what to do to have Bill arching his back and curling his toes and squeezing his eyes shut tight. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and fuck,  _ fuck,  _ Bill is going to come if Robert keeps fucking into him in this fast paced, animalistic way.

“Tell me,” Bill pants suddenly, so full and overwhelmed and overstimulated but still desperate for more. Robert is already inside him but Bill never wants him to fucking leave.

“Tell me I’m yours.” Bill pleads, doesn’t care how many times he has to repeat it. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

Robert’s eyes flash with some imperceptible emotion then, there and gone in a second, but then he is sucking a bruise into Bill’s neck and whispering, “You’re mine, Billy, sweetheart, you’re  _ mine.” _

Bill comes. He’s pretty sure he blacks out for a second because when his vision clears Robert is still fucking into him, faster, harder than before, chasing his orgasm. Bill’s body is still tingling from the force of his climax and each of Robert’s thrusts feel impossibly deep, but Bill hooks his ankles together around Robert’s waist and encourages him. When Robert comes, his head drops down onto Bill’s chest and Bill strokes his hair, sweaty and mussed up, as he comes down.

_ I love you,  _ he wants to say.  _ Don’t ever leave me. _

“You’re mine,” Robert whispers, almost to himself, and it’s pretty much perfect.

***

Robert comes to find him in the dining room. Bill has been sitting at the table with Georgie for the past half hour, puzzling over Georgie’s science homework and wishing he had paid more attention in class, when he feels the warmth of another person close behind him. Robert’s hand curls over his shoulder and he rests his chin on the top of Bill’s head.

“You okay?” He asks, peering at the worksheets they have in a messy pile in front of them. Robert straightens up and scratches his nails over Bill’s scalp comfortingly. Bill sighs, feels like the tension is just draining out of him, leans back to rest against Robert’s body.

“Fucking science,” Bill whines, smiling slightly when Robert’s fingers trail down his cheeks and over the slope of his nose and his jawline.

“Language,” Robert chastises, sounding amused. Bill grins, mock contritely.

“Sorry, Georgie. Do as I say, not as I do?”

“Don’t do either,” Robert corrects, ruffling Georgie’s hair. He plucks one of the worksheets from out of Bill’s hands and looks it over, brows drawing together into a slight frown. “Do you need help with this?”

_ “Georgie  _ needs help with this,” Bill tells him. “I do not.”

“Uh huh,” Robert observes him with a smirk that Bill wants to kiss off his face. Smug asshole. “In that case you can go and make coffee?”

“Wow,” Bill rolls his eyes but he can’t keep the find smile off his face. This whole situation feels so domestic and comfortable– everything he’s ever wanted from his family. He’ll make Robert coffee every day for the rest of his life if it means he can keep this tranquil domesticity. 

“How do you take yours again?” He calls over his shoulder. “Milk with three sugars?”

“Don’t you dare!” Robert shouts back. He only ever raises his voice when he’s joking, which is something else Bill loves about him. His father never had the same courtesy.

Over the course of the few months they’ve been there, Bill he only just managed to figure out Robert’s fancy coffee machine, and he can still only operate it tentatively whenever he does. There are too many buttons and dials to turn and filters to slide in, and he’s always been terrified that he’ll press the wrong thing and it’ll explode in his face. His father didn’t have a coffee machine - just instant coffee and a kettle that screamed when the water boiled - and he wonders whether Robert will be able to tell the difference.

Of course he will, Bill thinks stupidly as he’s heaping instant coffee into a mug to make it as strong as possible. Robert will probably know as soon as Bill steps into the room.

“Cheater,” Robert’s voice comes from behind him and Bill freezes mid spoonful, caught out. “That tastes like dirt.”

“You still buy it.” Bill points out with a self satisfied grin.

“Because  _ you  _ like it.” Bill has to close the distance between them and kiss Robert softly on the mouth. It’s a magnetic pull that he can’t, wouldn’t, doesn’t want to fight. Robert helps Georgie with his homework. Robert buys gross coffee just because Bill likes it. All he’s ever wanted is for Georgie to have a good childhood surrounded by people that love him and this, now, this is it. They’re a  _ family. _

“Hey,” Robert pulls away just slightly, still close enough for Bill to feel Robert’s breath against his lips. “I do need to talk to you about something, actually.”

Well shit. Bill forces himself to ignore the lightning bolt of terror that hits him at those specific words, and instead tugs his lips up into a nervous attempt at a smile.

“What’s up?” He asks.

Robert tilts his head with a small smile and reaches out to take Bill’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly. 

“Forget the coffee for a minute.” He murmurs, tugging Bill towards the door. Bill looks over his shoulder, instinctively checking that Georgie is busy with his homework. Robert sees this and gets the same fond smile he always does whenever Bill looks out for his brother. “He’s fine,” he reassures Bill. “He’s doing his homework.”

“You managed to crack the code, huh?” Bill follows Robert through the house and, for the first time, into his study, shutting the door behind them. It’s dark in here and unnaturally neat: there are stacks of paper lines up at the corners and two floor to ceiling cupboards with locks on the doors.

It feels wrong being in here, even though Robert is here too and it’s clear he’s not breaking any unspoken house rules. His heart beats staccato against his ribs– surely, whatever Robert has called him in here for, it can’t be good?

But Robert isn’t frowning. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed, like he’s about tell Bill he wants him to leave. In fact he doesn’t even look at Bill as he rifles through his desk draw and brings out a small, silver key. 

“Robert?” Bill asks in a small voice, worried that anything he says might prompt Robert into anger. Even though he knows, he  _ knows,  _ Robert isn’t like that and it’s unfair of him to keep fearing the worst. Isn’t it?

“I promised you we’d do this once I got back, didn’t I?” Bill has no idea what  _ this  _ is so he can’t really answer that. He just watches as Robert takes the key over to the cupboard on the right and unlocks it slowly; he watches as Robert pulls out a gun. 

“Holy shit,” Bill breathes, taking a step away instinctively. He’d forgotten about this arrangement, this agreement. Even when Robert had first mentioned it, Bill’s not sure he properly believed that Robert wanted to teach him how to use a gun. He’s never used one, and he’s not sure he wants to when all it ever seems to bring is chaos.

A brief memory flashes before his eyes: a man standing above him, fear so potent it’s painful, Robert with a gun in his hand and an expression Bill has never seen before.

He blinks and it’s gone. He wishes he could erase it forever. 

“Are you s-serious?” Bill asks, uncomfortable. Sure, maybe Robert locks the doors and maybe he tries his best to be safe but what happens if he forgets or leaves it out somewhere? Georgie is an intelligent kid, but accidents happen everywhere…

“I’m not going to be here all the time, Billy.” Robert tells him in a quiet, compelling voice. It’s impossible for Bill not to give him his full attention when he talks like that. “I have to know you can protect yourself.”

“P-Point and shoot, right?” The joke falls flat, but Robert still gives him a fond half smile. Bill presses onwards, chewing nervously on his lip. “Listen, you said it w-wouldn’t happen again, right? So this is hardly n-necessary.”

The look Robert gives him is not reassuring.

“Robert,” he says, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “You p-p-promised.” 

Robert places the gun very carefully down on the desk and then crosses the distance between them. He takes Bill’s face in his hands and kisses his forehead, his mouth, the curve of his jaw. Bill relaxes slowly but surely into Robert’s arms, curling his arms around Robert’s waist in a gentle hug.

“Bill,” Whenever Robert doesn’t use his nickname, the topic is conversation is usually uncomfortably serious. “You know that I’ll do anything in my power to keep you safe, but there are some things even I can’t ensure.”

Bill can feel himself trembling, knows that it isn’t just the possibility of Georgie or himself getting hurt that has him so scared. It’s Robert, what he’s capable of, what Bill condoned. How can Bill love someone that does what Robert does? How come he doesn’t  _ care  _ anymore? Maybe that’s the worst thing.

But then he thinks about what would have happened if Robert hadn’t killed those men, how he would have died, and probably then Georgie would have died. Robert saved his life, and all he’s asking now is that Bill learns to save his own. 

He can pick up the gun if Robert asks him to. He can wave it around and learn how to load it and handle it and point it at any potential murderers if it means they can all sleep easy at night. He hopes to god he’ll never need to use the techniques Robert shows him, but for Georgie, for  _ Robert,  _ he’d do anything.

“Okay,” he murmurs, nodding slightly with his forehead pressed to Robert’s collarbone. “Okay, I’ll learn.”

Robert picks up the gun and holds it out to Bill. Bill takes it. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! This chapter was a bitch to finish for some reason, but if I overthink it anymore I’ll probably delete it, so I hope you enjoy! <3

And really, Bill should have known things were too good to be true. He can’t remember a time he’s ever been so happy– he has a family, a home, he’s in  _ love. _

Of course that’s when things start to go wrong.

In fairness, it is mostly his fault. He knows not to go into Robert's office without permission, and especially not when Robert isn’t even there. But the door had been open and Bill had just walked past, just peered in, had seen the glint of a gun on the edge of the desk.

What if Georgie had been walking past instead of Bill? What if he had seen the gun and had picked it up, messed around with it, what if something had  _ happened?  _

Bill doesn’t even think about it when he pushes through the door and snatches up the gun. It’s heavy, just like it was the last time he touched it, and the knowledge that that means it’s loaded sends a shiver down his spine. He’d thought Robert would be more responsible than just… leaving it out in the open like that. He’d promised he’d always protect Bill and Georgie, after all, that was the whole purpose of the gun.

The cabinet door is unlocked and hanging open on its hinges so Bill doesn’t feel like he’s snooping as he stands up on his tiptoes and slides it to the back of the highest shelf. Maybe he should, because he is in Robert’s office, rifling through Robert’s cupboard without permission, but it isn’t like he’s doing it to spy on the man. He really isn’t. He just happens to brush the back of his hand against something on the top shelf, and when he pulls the box out, he’s already too curious to leave without investigating. 

It’s a beautiful little box, ornate and polished with a slide lock in dainty silver. Bill wouldn’t open it - he remembers what meddling with other people’s belongings got him back with his father - but he’s just… curious. He wants to see what Robert is so secretive about all the time, what he’s hiding in here when he locks Bill out. 

He lifts the lid gently, expecting to see money or maybe even another gun. What he finds, however, are pictures.

They’re small, clipped together and fraying at the edges, but it’s undeniably Robert standing in frame. He looks younger, maybe Bill’s age, and there’s another boy in the picture with him as well. He’s taller than Robert, with dark auburn hair and pale, freckled skin. Neither of them are smiling.

He almost looks like Bill, and Bill is reminded of Robert’s confusing declaration of having a brother. Is this him? With the amount of technology Robert has around the house, it’s baffling that he doesn’t just call him every now and then rather than hoarding creepy pictures of him locked away in his office.

There are a few more that show Robert as a teenager; even then he dressed smartly, with his hair combed to the side and his shirt tucked into his trousers. It’s fascinating, seeing what Robert looked like when he was Bill’s age, and Bill is just wondering if they would have gotten along had they met in school when he hears the door creaking behind him and his heart drops to his stomach.

“What are you doing in here, Billy?” Robert’s voice is level and deadly calm. Bill feels sick, frozen, guilty, not sure if he should be scared or not. This is Robert– he  _ knows  _ Robert. Robert is  _ not  _ Bill’s father.

“Robert,” Bill starts, but he doesn’t really know what to say. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t b-be in h-here. The d-door was open and I–”

“That’s not an invitation,” Robert says, and he’s smiling but he’s not happy. Bill frowns. Jesus, isn’t this taking it a little too far? He apologised already, what more can he do? Robert is acting like he’s a child that needs to be supervised and disciplined and Bill got enough of that at home.

“Your g-gun was on the d-desk,” Bill lowers his voice and hopes he sounds at least somewhat authoritative. He always stutters more when he’s nervous and it’s always been embossing but now it’s just inconvenient. “What if G-Georgie found it, huh?”

_ “Georgie  _ knows not to sneak into my office.” Robert crosses his arms across his chest. His eyes flicker momentarily down to the pictures in Bill’s hand and Bill drops them back into the box quickly, embarrassed again to have been caught snooping. 

“I w-w-wanted to f-find you.” Bill says in a small voice, chastened. He hadn’t actually been looking for Robert but there’s something he’s been meaning to ask the man for days and he can improvise if it means Robert doesn’t stay mad at him for long.

“What’s that?” He’s still hostile, still unfriendly, even worse than when Bill and Georgie had just arrived. It’s just a momentary setback, their first proper ‘couple fight’ - Bill hopes - but it feels like shit and he’d do anything to change the icy look in Robert’s eye.

“Um,” Bill says, so already he’s off to a wonderful start. “I just w-wanted to– I mean, you said that when you were b-back I could call my friends? And, um…”

“You want to call your friends?” Robert finishes for him when Bill trails off into silence. He doesn’t sound pleased about it and Bill is terrified suddenly that something vital has changed, that his betrayal of trust will have fucked everything up, that Robert won’t let him talk to his friends like he promised. It would be difficult to isolate Bill– they’re in the middle of nowhere and he’s reliant on Robert for just about everything.

But then Robert’s arms fall to his sides and he sighs and of course he’s not that person, he’s not toxic, he cares about Bill and he wouldn’t punish him for one single mistake. Right?

He seems tired, drained, as he rubs the heels of his palm into his eyes. His hair is messy, sticking up in all directions like he’s been running his fingers through it nonstop, like he’s stressed. Bill wants to ask if something’s wrong but he doesn’t want to risk Robert snapping at him, doesn’t want to risk annoying him further. He could offer to suck his dick, but now is probably not the right time.

“Okay,” Robert says on a long exhale, and something in Bill’s chest loosens. “Bring me your laptop.”

***

Bill is nervous. 

He’s sitting at the table in the dining room with the laptop in front of him and Robert sitting opposite. When Bill had asked tentatively if he was going to stay, his eyes had narrowed and he had explained that he needed to be in here in case ‘anything went wrong’. Bill has no idea what he meant by that but he didn’t argue any further, knowing he had already upset the man by asking in the first place.

So now, he’s nervous. He hasn’t talked to his friends in months, didn’t even let them know he was leaving. They probably went crazy with worry for him, probably staged detective sessions and stakeouts and everything before finally giving up. Bill’s only hope is that they saw Georgie’s absence as proof that he and Bill are safe, rather than evidence that their father killed them both and hid their bodies. He’s completely expecting to be screamed at for his shitty behaviour, and now he doesn’t even have the support of Robert because he pissed him off too.  _ Can you do nothing right? _

His fingers have been hovering over the keyboard for far too long before Bill eventually bites the bullet and starts typing. He only has himself to blame for the inevitable consequences of his dumb actions.

Bill:  _ hey bev, it’s bill. I know it’s been a long time and I’m so so so sorry that I couldn’t tell you I was leaving, but I PROMISE me and Georgie are both safe and well and I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months. Things have been crazy and I wish I could explain everything to you in a few words but tbh im not even sure what’s been going on myself. Message me back when you get this, if you’re around to call then I would so fucking love to see your face again. I love you guys SO much and I’m so sorry _

He sits back when he’s finished and holds his breath, leg twitching under the table, fingers drumming out a rhythm on the top. He thinks the suspense really might kill him, but within thirty seconds the typing bubble pops up, for better or for worse.

Beverly:  _ WTF _

Beverly:  _ BILL _

Beverly:  _ WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED. WE HAVE BEEN WORRIED OUT OF OUR FUCKING MINDS WHERE DID YOU GUYS FUCKING GO? what the FUCK????? _

Beverly:  _ call me RIGHT NOW. _

Bill winces. Robert is still in the room with him and he has no clue if Beverly is alone but he calls her anyway. He’s already done enough damage, so now the least he can do is whatever she says.

“Bill!” She exclaims, before the pixelated picture has even come into focus. A few seconds later, her face pops up on his screen and it’s the first time he’s seen any of his friends in months and it’s so familiar that tears are already welling in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. Beverly is crying as well, he can see it on the screen despite the bad connection, and it makes him feel horribly guilty.

“Bev,” he says, voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I’ve missed you too, you fucking asshole! We all have! Bill, we’ve been so worried. We’ve been looking literally everywhere for you. Richie was convinced your dad murdered you both and buried you in your back garden. Where the fuck have you  _ been?” _

Bill doesn’t think he can possibly explain the last few months, but he owes it to Beverly to try. He starts with his father breaking Georgie’s arm, tells her about the emergency room and hitching a ride with a stranger and staying in his house. He leaves out the whole assassin-for-hire aspect of the situation but Beverly is probably suspicious enough to make up for it. Surprisingly, Bill finds that he can put Robert out of his mind even as he’s describing the man to his best friend. It doesn’t feel awkward to talk in front of him, and after the whole story is over Beverly tells him about what the Losers Club has been doing and demands information about Georgie and Robert and Bill himself. Some questions he answers, some he doesn’t, but Bill is so fucking relieved that Beverly doesn’t hate him now that he can’t bring himself to feel bad.

“You can’t disappear on us again, Bill.” She says gravely, after they’ve been talking for almost an hour. Robert is still sitting opposite, hasn’t moved the whole time. If Bill didn’t love him as much as he does, it would be unnerving.

“I won’t,” Bill swears. “I won’t, I p-promise. I love you s-so much, all of you. Tell the others, p-please?” Bill catches Robert’s eye over the screen. He’s watching intensely with an expression Bill can’t place.

“Of course,” Bev agrees. “But you have to call again tomorrow, okay? I’ll get everyone here and you can tell them yourself? Bill?”

After months of it just being him and Robert and Georgie, that sounds like an overwhelming task, but there’s no way he’s turning down the opportunity. He nods and promises and tells Bev that he loves her about a hundred more times before she’s waving goodbye through the screen and Bill is wiping his eyes. 

As soon as the screen turns black, Bill is stumbling out of his chair and crossing the room to throw himself into Robert’s arms. He hugs him around the waist and buried his face in Robert’s chest to hide his tears. Robert seems surprised, like he doesn’t really know what to do, so he settles a hand on top of Bill’s head and doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, quiet, subdued.

“I don’t know,” Bill sniffles, swallowing past the sting of tears in his throat. “I’m just– it’s j-just so good to hear her again b-but she’s m-mad at me and so are you.”

Robert sighs and rests his chin on Bill’s head. “I’m not mad at you, Billy.” He says. Bill brushes away his tears with a closed fist and looks up hopefully. Maybe things aren’t as bad as he first thought. Maybe not everything in his life is going wrong all at once. Maybe this isn’t karma for being such a fuckup and letting Georgie get beat up by their father–

“I’m just disappointed.” He finishes.

Oh.

***

Robert leaving for his next job is an awkward affair. He stands at the door with Georgie clinging to his waist as Bill sits at the base of the stairs and watches with his chin in his hands, feeling like he’s imposing even though that’s ridiculous. But Robert hugs Georgie back and says he’s going to miss him and he never said that to Bill and he never hugged Bill back. He’s just  _ disappointed. _

When Georgie finally disentangles himself and takes a few shuffling steps back, Bill stands up and wraps his arms around his middle protectively. 

“Well,” he says, awkwardly. Robert nods, doesn’t smile, lifts his luggage up from the floor.

“I’ll be back in a few days.” He says, no sign of affection anywhere in his words. “You know how to contact me if there’s an emergency.”

_ If there’s an emergency.  _ Not  _ if you want to  _ or  _ if you miss me,  _ it has to be an emergency if Bill wants to reach out. His heart aches. What was the big fucking deal about those pictures anyway? 

“Yeah,” Bill smiles, forced, pained. “I’ll see you soon.”

Robert waves once more at Georgie before he's opening the door and slipping out and closing it behind him. He’s gone, and Bill never even got to say goodbye properly. If this is going to be anything like last time, it’s going to be hell.

“Billy?” Georgie asks softly, tugging on his sleeve. Bill pulls him closer with an arm around his shoulder and hums in acknowledgement. “Does Robert hate us now?”

Bill is taken aback by the bluntness of the question, and feels for a few seconds like he can barely breathe, so worried about the same issue as he is.

“No, Georgie, of c-course not. He’s just t-tired.” He only realises his mistake when it’s too late, when Georgie looks at him sharply and then stomps up the stairs away from him. Of course Georgie wouldn’t believe that bullshit excuse. It’s the same one Bill always used for himself.

Bill follows him up there. Georgie probably wants to be alone right now but he could do with a long fucking nap. In his hurry to be able to burrow under his blankets and block the past few days out for a few hours, he completely forgets to lock the door.

***

Bill wakes to the sound of a dull thud from downstairs. At first he isn’t sure what woke him, because, in the following silence, all he can hear is the ticking of a clock somewhere and the faint rattle of the wind, of branches tapping against the window. Then he remembers that Georgie is somewhere in the house, and he panics.

The noise doesn’t come again but Bill  _ knows  _ he heard something, and Georgie is somewhere in Robert’s massive house unsupervised. He remembers with horrifying clarity how he’d stumbled inside Robert‘s office to find the fun laying there on the desk, out in the open for anyone to find. What if Robert took it out again after he left– what if Georgie saw it and picked it up and—

Bill swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up so suddenly that his vision blurs at the edges. He wants to call out to Georgie but he finds that his voice gets stuck in his throat, heart pumping wildly against his rib cage so that Bill doesn’t think he could speak if he tried. What if he calls out and he gets no response? He doesn’t think he could cope with the silence. 

His hands are trembling against the bannister of the staircase as he takes slow, reluctant steps. Every step down is another step closer to a scene he really doesn’t want to see, probably won’t ever be able to forget. This sick feeling only worsens when he gets to the bottom of the stairs and sees blood, a thin smear of it making a trail from the door towards the sitting room.

Then, wait… that’s  _ good,  _ right? Well, not  _ good  _ because blood in any context is never good, but at least it’s highly unlikely that Georgie accidentally shot himself in the head and then dragged himself across the floor. Whatever it is, it’ll be fine, Bill tells himself. Georgie’s going to be fine. He can message Robert, get him to come back, everything will be okay again if Bill could just get his fucking feet to  _ move. _

And then he realises the situation is probably worse than he’s imagining. Either Georgie is seriously wounded and has to crawl across the floor with a bleeding wound, or…

Or someone else is here. Last time someone else was here, it didn’t end well. 

Bill’s next step is silent. He’s absurdly grateful he can slip across the floor soundlessly in his bare feet and head towards the living room. Truthfully, he has no idea what to do; if Georgie is the only other person here and he’s hurt somehow, Bill needs to get to him as quickly as possible, but if there’s someone else here then really, Robert’s safety precaution might be the best bet for him.

Fuck, Bill wishes Robert was still here. Even if they were still fighting or ignoring each other, it would be better than having to make decisions like this on his own.

Bill heads towards the living room, where the trail of blood ends abruptly. The door has swung half open and Bill sneaks forward tentatively, thinking that if he can just see through the gap into the room, he’ll be able to figure this whole mess out. He holds his breath as he shuffles closer.

What he’s met with is something he never wanted to see in his life. It’s worse than their father standing over Georgie’s bruised body, worse than Robert with a gun in his hand and a corpse on the floor. It’s the very thing Robert told him he’d never let happen again.

There is a stranger in the living room. Georgie is unconscious, propped up against the arm of the sofa. Robert - and what the  _ fuck,  _ how is he here? - is knelt in front of the stranger with blood drying around a gash on his forehead. He looks livid, but his wrists and his ankles are bound and he clearly can’t move or this intruder would be dead by now. Bill feels sick looking at this– seeing his both baby brother and the man he loves hurt and in the hands of who is likely one of Robert’s ex business associates. In other words, a fucking murderer.

God, he needs to do something. He needs to knock the guy out, get Georgie the hell away from him and let Robert deal with the situation. That way, Georgie and Bill can stay safe and Bill doesn’t have to make any... tough decisions. There’s the gun in Robert’s office, of course, but there are also multiple ornaments or pieces of furniture that Bill can use to smash over his head and knock him the fuck out. That’s what he has to do.

So he takes a hurried stride backwards to do just that– and crashes into the wall behind him. His elbow thuds painfully against the drywall and he freezes, paralysed, terrified,  _ discovered.  _ He doesn’t need to see what’s going on to know that both the intruder and Robert will have heard him. Their heads will have jerked towards the sudden sound and Robert will probably be cursing Bill out for being so fucking clumsy when he was the only one who could have done anything in the circumstances.

He thinks back to barely a week ago when he was assuring Beverly he  _ was  _ safe and he  _ did  _ want to be here and yes he  _ does  _ know what he’s doing. He kind of jinxed things there.

Robert cries, “Bill, run!” at the same time that the heavy footfalls heading in his direction stop, and the door is ripped open so violently that it’s practically torn off the hinges. Bill has seen Robert pissed off, frustrated, angry, even murderous, but he’s  _ never _ seen him scared. Bill panics.

He jerks backwards and loses his footing, arms windmilling as he scrambles away from the living room. He crashes into the wall behind him but he can’t waste time or the guy will just be able to reach out and snag the back of his collar, kill him with one blow probably. 

Georgie is still in there and it feels horribly wrong to be running away from him, but if he doesn’t get out of there then he won’t be able to help at all. He needs to find somewhere to hide, something to attack with–

Thank fuck for dumb, irresponsible Robert and the gun in his office.

Bill sets off running without looking back. He can hear the guy crashing through the hallway behind him but if he pauses for anything then he’s dead, and not only that but Georgie and Robert will die with him. If he can just get to the office, get to the cupboard, get to the gun-

Something catches him round the stomach and Bill is yanked backwards violently, body smacking into something solid and painful. He’s spun round and before he even has a chance to defend himself, there are hands wrapped around his neck. His fingers dig desperately into the man’s arms, hands, whatever flesh he can grab onto, but it’s no use. He’s choking and his mouth falls open and he’s on his tiptoes and he can’t  _ breathe. _

With one final burst of energy, Bill jumps up and propels his feet into the man’s groin as hard as he can. With his back flush to the wall and his feet off the ground, the only thing keeping him upright is the man’s hands around Bill’s neck, and when he crumples to the ground with a low, animalistic growl, Bill falls down with him. He knocks the back of his head against the floor and his ears are ringing but he can finally breathe; oxygen has never tasted so fucking good. He sucks in air even though his throat feels like it’s entirely closed up and there are tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, but the man is struggling into a sitting position and Bill doesn’t have much time. 

He crawls towards Robert’s office, so close now that he can cross the threshold and slam the door behind him in a matter of seconds. He locks the door and shoves a chair under the handle for good measure, but it won’t keep the attacker out forever. Bill has to be quick if he wants to live.

“Fuck,  _ fuck.”  _ He wheezes, pulling uselessly at the cupboard door. It’s locked - of fucking course it is - and the intruder is kicking the door of Robert’s office so violently that the hinges are coming loose. He doesn’t have much time left.

Where does Robert hide the key? He tries the desk drawer but there’s nothing inside other than a few papers and a phone. He could phone for help, but then what? He doesn’t know where he is and they’d never get here in time. Unless he wants some psychopath to kill him, his baby brother  _ and  _ the man he loves all at once… he’s going to have to find the fucking gun.

The door rattles again and then there’s silence like the aftermath of something terrible. Dread grows in Bill’s stomach and crawls up into his throat; he finds that he’s frozen, paralysed with fear, and when he tries to move all he can do is tremble on the spot. What if he got this wrong? What if he isn’t distracting the intruder, and he’s just turned around to kill Georgie and Robert before he tires himself out with Bill? What if–

A gunshot rings out. In the silence that follows, Bill can hear the blood rushing in his ears and he swears he can taste blood. Then it comes again, and the metal lock on the door flies across the room and lands at Bill’s feet. He can hear Robert yelling in the background and the sound of Georgie beginning to cry. He’s probably about to die, but the relief is immeasurable.

Just for something to defend himself with, Bill reaches out and grabs at the lampshade Robert keeps on the desk. In his panicked hurry, his hand knocks into a pile of papers on the desk and they topple over, spreading over the desk and the floor. Something falls at Bill’s feet: something small, silver, shiny.. The key. His fingers fumble as he struggles to pick it up, to find the lock on the cupboard and turn it with his other hand still clenched right around the lampshade. Another gunshot rings out and Bill jumps, cries, drops the key but it doesn’t matter because the door is opening and the door  _ behind _ him bursts open and he drops the lamp to grab the gun just as a bullet embeds itself into the wood by his head.

He spins on his heels and aims, closes his eyes, turns his head, can’t look at what he’s about to do. He pulls the trigger, and the silence returns. 

Bill vomits onto the carpet of Robert’s office, but at least it’s over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tiigixox) There’s nothing much there yet but you can send me a prompt if you want :D


	9. Chapter 9

Here’s what Bill finds out once everything has calmed down: ever since Robert killed the two men in his house that day, there have been others looking for him. Robert’s house has not been safe, not while he was there and especially not while he was away. It was stupid to assume that it would stop with two, that they wouldn’t have associates, that they wouldn’t have shared what they’d known. 

Whoever has just attacked Bill, they’d been waiting to do it for weeks. They’d wanted to kill Robert and Bill and Georgie, regardless of blame, of morals, of  _ anything.  _ Bill never thought he’d even think it, but he’s glad the fucker is dead, glad he got to be the one to kill him. Even if it did make Bill throw up on Robert’s carpet, which he completely deserves.

Bill also finds out that he needs to lock the door from now on. He can’t believe how stupid he was, forgetting and then just leaving Georgie alone to roam to house while he went to sleep.  _ Anything  _ could have happened. Georgie is mature for his age but, as they’ve discovered, maturity can’t defend against a gun. 

And he finds out that Robert came back for him, for them, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. It’s the least important factor of the situation, obviously, because yet again there’s a dead man in their house and Georgie is traumatised and so is Bill, but for some reason Bill clings onto the fact that Robert has come back. They’d left things on a bad note - awkward, distant, cold - but Robert had put Bill in front of his job and  _ he’d come back for him.  _ It’s uplifting, even if the man was already inside when he arrived back, even if Bill is technically why he got hurt. It’s that thought that allows Bill to get up on shaky legs and make his way through the house, to collapse on the living room floor and hold Georgie in his arms, let himself be held by Robert. It horrifies him to think that his last words to Georgie would have been a lie, and his last words to Robert would have been, “I’ll see you soon.”

It takes a while for Bill to be able to breathe normally again, but even then he can’t leave Georgie’s side. They’d carried him upstairs, bridal style in Robert’s arms with Bill clinging to his side, and tucked him under the covers in Robert’s bed. Robert’s head had been bleeding from the gash in his forehead and Bill had seen it, had wanted to clean it up and make sure he was okay.

He didn’t, in the end, because he was too tired and too shaken up and he needed to just be near Georgie. Even though he’s unconscious, sandwiched between Bill and Robert, Bill still doesn’t feel happy leaving him alone. He came too close to losing him forever, and all because of his own dumb mistake.

Well, not entirely, but it kind of feels that way.

Robert is awake next to him and Bill knows it, but he can’t bring himself to speak. What would he say? He wants so desperately to compartmentalise, figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to do now…

Well, he doesn’t want to figure it out. He wants Robert to tell him what to do. Even though this already happened before, even though he told Robert this could never happen again, Bill knows he isn’t going anywhere. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves Robert now, and the thought of living without him is unimaginable. He feels lost just thinking about it, set adrift, like last time Robert left but magnified by a hundred.

But how can he say any of that? He really is a terrible brother, a terrible person. 

“Billy?” Robert’s voice comes as somewhat of a shock. Georgie is asleep between them and knowing him, especially after the events of today, he’s not going to wake up because of a whispered conversation, but it’s still a surprise. Bill knows they’re going to have to talk about what happened, but he really wishes they didn’t.

“What?” He murmurs, pressing his cheek further against the pillow. His eyes are closed but he knows just instinctively that Robert is watching him, evaluating him. He just doesn’t know what for.

He does know what Robert is about to say though. He’s been waiting for it ever since he stumbled towards him downstairs, since he dropped to his knees and fought desperately with the bindings around Robert’s wrists and ankles. It’s actually a relief to have it out in the open, to know his answer for certain. It’s nice for them both to be on the same fucking page for once.

“Are you going to leave me?” The vulnerability with which he says it is heartbreaking. Bill is too tired to move, but he wishes he was next to Robert so that he could just hug him close, rest his head against Robert’s chest, kiss him. 

“Never,” he says, with as much certainty as he can project in a whisper. Robert is silent for a long time, and when he does speak again he sounds more like his regular self. It’s reassuring to hear him calm and collected and in control, but it had also been reassuring to remember that he’s actually human.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” He says, swallows, like he doesn’t want to be saying any of this. Bill doesn’t want him to either. “You know I’m bad for you, Billy. Both of you.”

“Do you w-want me to leave?” Bill sighs, more to prove a point than out of actual curiosity.

“Of course not,” Robert’s response is instantaneous. “You’re mine. I mean, I  _ want  _ you to be mine, forever. Of course I don’t want you to leave. But I don’t want you dead either, and it’s not safe here anymore, Billy.”

“I’m not l-leaving you.” And that’s final. There’s another pause. Bill couldn’t fall asleep if he tried, but it’s nice to lay here with his family, to know that they’re safe, that he protected them no matter the price he had to pay. 

“You’re not stuttering as much,” Robert points out, sounding soft. “You usually stutter when you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid anymore.” Bill tells him truthfully.

“Billy?”

“Hmm?” 

“My brother died.” Bill pauses. He feels cold suddenly, and he opens his eyes, watches Robert over Georgie’s head. “It was an accident, but it was my fault. We didn’t get along. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but it happened. And then I couldn’t do anything about it, and I was sorry but it’s not like that was worth anything with him dead.”

“I kind of f-figured something like that happened.” Bill says. He’d known, hadn't he, that those photos shoved away on the top shelf couldn’t be a good sign. “I’m sorry.”

He feels the bed dip when Robert sits up, and he doesn’t want to move but he also doesn’t like Robert looking down at him like he’s about to vanish into thin air, so he sits up as well.

“I can’t let you get hurt, Billy. I love you. I can’t let you get hurt.”

And just like that, Bill bursts into tears. He managed to kill someone without so much as a sniffle but the second Robert tells him he loves him, that’s when Bill has a breakdown? What the fuck?

“I l-l-love you, too.” Bill hiccups, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He laughs wetly, shaking his head at his own behaviour, and rounds the bed so that he can throw himself into Robert’s arms. It feels so good to let himself be held, so much better than being alone; Robert is warm and strong and despite everything, Bill feels so protected just being near him. Robert holds him close and buries his face in the juncture between Bill’s neck and his shoulder.

“It’s not safe here,” Robert tells him.

“Then we move.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.” And Bill means it. It doesn’t matter where they go– they could keep travelling for the rest of their life and, even though it wouldn’t be great for Georgie’s education, Bill would just be happy that they were all together.

“Well,” Robert smiles, cups Bill’s face in his hand like he’s something precious. “I’ve heard Maine is nice this time of year.”

Bill lets out a high peal of laughter and then slaps a hand over his mouth when he remembers Georgie sleeping in the bed next to them. Even so, he can’t keep the grin from slowly spreading over his face. 

“Anywhere in particular?” He asks.

“I’ve got a few ideas.” Robert says, and then kisses him. It takes Bill off guard– he’s completely balanced in Robert’s lap so the force of the kiss almost knocks him to the floor. He digs a hand into Robert’s shoulder to stay upright and takes him in: the dark bruise around his eye, the cut on his forehead. He’s still devastatingly handsome and–

_ And he’s tied up, and Georgie’s unconscious, and Bill has a gun in his hand– _

“C’mon,” Bill urges, stumbling to his feet and tugging at Robert’s hand. “Come with me.”

Robert follows him lethargically. It’s not odd for Bill to initiate sex but it’s rare that he gets to be pushy about it. He just needs– needs Robert. It’s more than just a distraction, it’s a replacement.

He pulls Robert into the nearest bathroom and shuts the door firmly behind him, letting himself be pushed backwards.

“I love you,” Robert says as he presses their bodies flush together, Bill’s back flat against the door. Their fingers are intertwined and Robert uses his other hand to brush Bill’s hair back from his forehead. He says it again when he’s easing Bill out of his clothes and then again when he’s removing his own. Bill will never get tired of hearing it.

He strokes his fingers around the wound on Robert’s head, careful not to actually touch it. It looks painful and Bill half expects Robert to ask him to stop, but the instruction never comes so Bill keeps doing it until Robert distracts him with a kiss that leaves him breathless and desperate. 

Robert’s hand strokes the outside of Bill’s thigh and then moves to curl around his hardening cock, to stroke him slow and tight and perfect. It’s dry and bordering on painful, but Bill spreads his legs and Robert claps a hand over Bill’s mouth to keep him quiet and he moans into Robert’s palm. There are tears in his eyes and his legs are shaking and he loves Robert, loves him so much and it feels so  _ good. _

“Please,” Bill tries to say, but the word comes out muffled and quiet.

“I love you,” Robert says again. He brushes over the bruises on Bill’s throat, the ones he got from having a hand wrapped around his neck, from being choked, and his eyes flash with some indistinguishable emotion. Then, “You looked so beautiful.”

Bill doesn’t know what he means by that, and the past tense strikes him as unusual and almost hurtful, but then Robert brushes his thumb over the head of Bill’s cock and he licks the flat of his tongue over the bruises on Bill’s neck and it’s wet and warm and Bill comes with a muffled cry. 

His orgasm leaves him breathless and boneless but he’s still coherent enough to spit into his palm and jerk Robert off until Bill has him spilling come over his fingers and the palm of his hand. They’re both sweaty and disgusting and in love.

“I’ll n-need to ask Georgie,” Bill says, and it’s weird to be bringing this up again when they’re both naked and clinging to one another but they should be brutally honest with each other after everything that’s happened. Bill loves Robert, wants to stay with him forever, wants to move to the shithole that is Derry, Maine, wants to see all his friends again with Robert by his side and without having to feel afraid of what his father might do.

It’s okay for him to tell Robert that he’s never leaving, but he’s here because of Georgie. If Georgie says it’s what he wants, then Bill will leave because of him as well.

“I understand.” Robert nods, somber.

“He’s p-probably gonna need therapy.”

“You probably do too.” Robert raises his eyebrows and, okay, fair point. He’ll prioritise Georgie and then he can see if he should worry about himself.

“I love you,” Bill says, because he can, because he’ll never get tired of saying it. “I w-want to spend my l-life with you.”

Robert wraps an arm around the small of his back and tugs him closer, cradles the back of his head. “You will,” he assures Bill. “One way or another.”

***

This time when Bill straps Georgie into Robert’s car, he knows where they’re going.

Bill had checked his messages from Beverly before they’d left the house. He’d had nothing but a quick,  _ ‘Can’t wait to see you’  _ from her and a few unread messages from Richie and Stan, but he’d be face to face with them in a few hours so he’d closed the laptop and packed it into his rucksack.

They still don’t have many things, Bill and Georgie. A few more clothes, a few more toys maybe, but Robert is leaving most of his belongings behind so they have more space in the car. It feels weird, sad, saying goodbye to the house they spend months in. It hasn’t been that long, but they were some eventful months.

Bill might miss it. He might not. Really, he has everything he needs with him or waiting for him.

“Are we going to live with dad again?” Georgie asks from the backseat. Bill has been expecting this question for a while now. Truthfully he’d been surprised when it hadn’t been the first thing Georgie had asked, but at least it’s given him time to think about what the fuck his answer should be.

“Do you want to?” He asks. No way is Georgie living with their father again, but he could probably stomach some visits if they were in a public place. If it’s what Georgie wants.

“No,” Georgie says, and Bill would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved. Robert catches his eye and smirks. They’d talked about Bill’s father as well, separately, and Bill knows that if push comes to shove he’ll never be able to hurt them again.

“I want my bike though,” Georgie continues, relentless. “It’s in the garage. He probably threw it away. Or sold it.”

He probably has sold it, to be honest, because it’s something the asshole would do. But before Bill can reply, Robert reaches over to rest a hand on his thigh and smile into the rear view mirror.

“That’s okay, Georgie, I can get you a new bike if you want? You can pick. I could try and teach you to ride it but it’s been a while.”

“I know how to ride a bike, dummy.” Georgie giggles, and he’s happy, and that’s all Bill’s ever wanted.

“Okay, well maybe you can teach me then.” Robert replies with a laugh of his own, and Bill has so much love for them both that it feels like he can’t keep it all inside his heart.

All his life he’s been running away from something, and he still is, but at least now he has someone to run away with. 

“Here we go,” Robert says, eyes set on the road in front of him. “Next stop, Derry. I can’t  _ wait _ to meet your dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s over! I can’t believe this took so long to finish, it started out as a fun little side fic and then turned into this :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! <3


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